and my course is marked by stars
by ADreamingSongbird
Summary: Prompt: "Non-sburb AU where after Grandpa dies, Jade ends up with a foster family that doesn't treat her well at all. And Dave has to watch helplessly as the girl that he loves (not that he's told her that) loses her spark and becomes more and more hopeless. And there's nothing he can do. He's tried." TWs inside.
1. Dave

_TW: Minor character death, depression, self-harm, suicide._

* * *

It starts off fairly well, as well as the death of a parental figure can go at least. The transition from the island to the mainland—now she lives in Oklahoma—is smooth, and you think it's cool that she's a driveable distance away now. Even if you wish for her sake her grandpa hadn't kicked the bucket.

TG: yo jade  
TG: hows it goin

You hit send and wait a moment—she's online, but she's also notorious among your friends for leaving her phone in random-ass places and never checking her computer because she's too busy with plants and Jadelike shit. But this time, her response is almost immediate.

GG: hi dave! [heart]  
GG: howre you?

TG: pretty awesome like usual thanks for asking  
TG: i was bored all last night though  
TG: its weird that youre not up at like four in the morning anymore  
TG: because were in the same time zone  
TG: which is pretty cool  
TG: but anyway i was up all night like usual just with no one to talk to

GG: sorry… :c

TG: nah its cool i used the time to make some sick raps  
TG: wanna see

GG: yes!  
GG: i would love to

You then proceed to show her the entirety of said sick raps, which are pretty fucking awesome if you do say so yourself (which you do). Even Bro thought so, and that's saying something. Three in the morning inspiration rocks, even if it was a little lonely. Oh well, you'll get used to it. Maybe if you start going to be a little earlier and getting up a little earlier, you can talk to her more.

You really do like talking to her, after all. But you're good friends, that's to be expected! Even if you do get a little more excited when she logs on than John or Rose. You mean what, you said nothing.

The next few conversations you have go a lot like that, though she seems a little more subdued than normal. But you figure she's got a shitton of shit on her plate, so that's kinda to be expected, and you do your best to try to cheer her up.

One day, though, Rose messages you.

TT: Hello, Dave.  
TT: Normally I'm sure we'd jump through all sorts of conversational hoops before getting to the point, assuming that there even is one.  
TT: But I'd like to get right to it for now.

TG: whoa are you asking me to get serious  
TG: cmon rose i dont know if thats even possible  
TG: me and serious dont mix  
TG: were like oil and water  
TG: fuckin opposites man we hate each other like a family feud you wouldnt believe  
TG: its like

TT: I'm worried about Jade.

Oh. Jade? Is she okay? Why's Rose worried? You talked to Jade earlier today and she seemed okay. Is this just Lalonde making shit up like she likes to?

TG: what about jade

This better just be Lalonde making up shit and blowing it out of proportion like some disgusting balloon.

TT: I've made this same request of John, but…  
TT: Ask her about her family for me, will you? The new one, I mean.  
TT: Like a normal conversation, though. Don't let her think you heard it from me.

TG: i dont even know what i heard so yeah lemme do that

— turntechGodhead [TG] is now pestering gardenGnostic [GG] —

TG: hey

GG: hi!

Jeez, moving out sure did get her to keep up with the electronics a lot more. She's sure on top of things now. Good job, Jade. Or maybe it's just that there's less to keep her distracted, which is … sadder. Well, you can distract her, right?

Man, why are you even listening to Rose. Jade's changed a bit because her grandpa's dead, duh. What else would the problem be? Sure, it's been a month, but a month probably isn't that much time to adjust. Oh well, you'll just chat with Jade.

TG: sup harls

GG: not much  
GG: just had dinner actually, and im in my room now…

TG: whats that '…' there for

GG: oh nothing! i was just thinking about something

TG: bout what

GG: nothing important!

Okay… that's kind of suspicious, if you're on the lookout for suspicious activity. Strike one, noted. 'Nothing important' your ass. Maybe Rose was onto something.

TG: yeah sure if you say so  
TG: though when anything we ever talk about is important i dont know  
TG: the hell even is important

GG: good question… importance is a weird concept!

TG: now im gonna say back the fuck up we arent doing philosophy  
TG: lets talk about something else  
TG: like  
TG: oh heres a topic  
TG: whats your new fam like  
TG: they treatin you right and all that jazz

GG: of course they are! why would you even ask that?

Uh, wow. She sure is quick to get on the defensive. Did you say something wrong? No, you don't think you did. She's probably just touchy because she's readjusting or something. But then again, coupled with Rose's seeming suspicion…

TG: whoa chill harls i was joking  
TG: i dont actually think they wouldnt be  
TG: or i didnt  
TG: until you got so defensive about it

Now to see how fast she jumps on that. Also, what Egbert says in response to Rose's prodding. You lean back in your chair, crossing your arms, and wait.

GG: ughhhh dave no youre being silly  
GG: did rose talk to you or something?

This is getting more and more sketchy by the second.

TG: talk to me about what  
TG: how youre acting funny and youre really jumpy about the new family  
TG: because no she didnt  
TG: it may surprise you to know that i have the cognitive ability to figure some shit out too

GG: im sorry  
GG: :c  
GG: i didnt mean to imply that you get all your ideas from rose or anything!  
GG: you are brilliant and im really sorry :(  
GG: please dont be mad at me i didnt mean anything by it

TG: whoa jade slow down  
TG: breathe for a minute  
TG: you breathing  
TG: sixty seconds come on  
TG: now look it takes a lot to offend me and that was not a lot at all ok  
TG: you didnt say anything im just a prickly bastard cmon we all know that  
TG: and also

GG: also?

TG: youre still avoiding the subject

She doesn't reply after that. You get a funny feeling that she'll try to hide behind her 'I left my phone in the greenhouse!' excuse later, but somehow, you think she'll be lying.

* * *

— tentacleTherapist [TT] has opened group memo at 22:47 —  
— tentacleTherapist [TT] has added ectoBiologist [EB] —  
— tentacleTherapist [TT] has added turntechGodhead [TG] —

EB: hi rose!  
EB: and hi dave!

TT: Hello, John.

TG: sup

TT: I'm sure you both have figured out what's on my mind, so I shan't preface.  
TT: I'm worried about Jade.

EB: me too! she's not acting like herself and she's dodging like every question  
EB: i tried asking her about her new family and she was like  
EB: | | GG: theyre wonderful! its nice of them to take me in and im grateful!

TG: jesus fuck thats a lot of exclamation points even for jade

EB: i know!

TT: "I'm grateful"? Why is that something she's specifying?  
TT: I would have expected her to say more like "my foster brother can't garden".

EB: what do you mean by that rose?

TT: If she's telling us the most notable things about them, why that she's grateful?

TG: maybe because shes too nice for her own good all the time

TT: Maybe.  
TT: Or maybe because it's already been drilled into her head that she's extra baggage.  
TT: That they didn't _have_ to take her on and that they did so because they're good people.

TG: what are you getting at here lalonde

TT: It's been six weeks already, and she's not acting like herself.  
TT: I'm starting to wonder if that family of hers has something to do with it.

EB: i don't know…  
EB: i want to help her but i don't want to jump to conclusions.

TT: I understand that. I haven't concluded anything yet myself.  
TT: Just that that's a possibility.  
TT: We can keep our eyes open, yes?

EB: of course!

TG: yeah  
TG: not even gonna be any blinking in these premises  
TG: sir you fucking blinked you did not have your eyes on jade for a second  
TG: im going to have to ask you to leave sir

TT: Alright.  
TT: Well, before this chatroom becomes a wall of phallic metaphors, is there anything else?

TG: first off fuck you that was not phallic in any way shape or form  
TG: but not really anything on my end as far as jade goes  
TG: shes just really defensive if you even bring her fam up

EB: i'm running into the same thing!  
EB: it's like she can't say anything that goes against them in the slightest!

TT: … Hmm.  
TT: Oh, I have to go to my mother.  
TT: Let's keep each other posted, boys.

TG: sure thing

EB: absolutely! see you later rose!

— tentacleTherapist has closed group memo at 22:58 —

* * *

You're mixing some ill beats a few days later, the warm Texas sunshine streaming in from the window to hit your back and paint half your room gold, when your computer goes ding! with a pesterchum notification.

It's Jade, to your total amazement. Amazement because she's been pretty quiet these days (and that's worrying y'all even further).

GG: hi dave [heart]

Ah, yes. Jade and all her heart emojis. You don't quite have the heart to tell her you turned emojis off because you don't like them staring at you like Cal.

TG: yo  
TG: nice to hear from you  
TG: i was starting to think you dropped off the face of the earth  
TG: howre things going

GG: things are going okay!  
GG: honestly ive just been kind of busy these days  
GG: everything happens so fast you know?  
GG: you shouldnt have worried about me though :c

TG: jade youve gotta understand thats how i roll  
TG: its like a thing that most people who are friends with each other do  
TG: when they drop all communications for days  
TG: people get all hella worried

GG: anyway thats all beside the point dave! i wanted to ask you  
GG: rapping is up your alley i know but i was wondering  
GG: ever tried acrostic poetry?

… Acrostic poetry? Where the fuck did that come from? You sit back and frown at the screen for a moment. Yeah, she's weird, but this is a whole new level. She's never gone and blatantly said "yeah I know you were worried but that doesn't matter" before.

TG: no i cant say that i have  
TG: why

Wait.

Acrostic—huh. You scroll back up and look at the pesterlog so far. The first letters of each line she's sent you… oh shit. _Shit_.

"They are".

GG: well i dont know!  
GG: a while ago i saw something and i thought of you  
GG: the whole 'clever wordplay' thing seemed like it might be a thing you like!  
GG: can you blame me for asking?  
GG: hehe you ARE the one who sends me random raps in the middle of the night!  
GG: i wish i could find the poem in question to show you though…  
GG: not gonna lie it was cool!  
GG: gosh though i wish i could remember the name

"They are watching". That's what she's saying. Someone's looking at her messages over her shoulder as she types, and that's why she never says the real thing. Okay. This is news. You've gotta tell Rose and John.

And you should tell her you got the message, too. She's bending over backwards through all these figurative hoops to tell you.

TG: acrostic poetry huh  
TG: rapping is different from poetry though  
TG: everyone can slap words together jade

GG: different how? :o

TG: you have to feel the beat for a rap  
TG: on a poem its just like whatever works dude  
TG: use some flowery words sure whatever

GG: and all those metaphors right? hehe, you and your metaphors!

TG: oh sure those are there too  
TG: kinda like the backbone to any good rap or poem or  
TG: anything really  
TG: youve gotta get the metaphors down harley take notes

Well, with a little effort you've just responded in kind. Hopefully you guys can keep up this rudimentary way of talking. Even if it does make longer messages hard. Ugh, maybe she could find a way to talk to you at night or something, when these controlling douches are asleep.

GG: notes okay got it! :D  
GG: okayyy metaphors hehe what else?

"No", she says. Jade Harley— _Jade Harley—_ just said no, she is not okay.

This is bad. This is very bad. This is very, very bad. Because Jade is the girl who insists she's fine when she falls out of a tree and breaks her ankle and left arm. Said she can walk and everything! What did these people _do_ if they make her admit she's not okay?

Shit, how do you respond to that. Something short and reassuring. Uhhh… oh, fuck it.

TG: lots of stuff  
TG: oh man there is a lot of stuff jade  
TG: very serious business is going down in the wordplay world  
TG: everyones like holy shit look at those goddamn stock transactions

GG: what?

TG: you heard me right im talking about metaphorical metaphors  
TG: are you surprised

There, it's said and done. She can take that as she will.

GG: …  
GG: i am not surprised  
GG: after all you are a big dork [heart]

TG: im actually really cool you know  
TG: …  
TG: [heart] to you too though

GG: :D  
GG: aw i feel special!  
GG: you never do hearts back!

TG: do i not  
TG: well damn i should fix that  
TG: here this should help remedy all the times ive skipped out on hearts  
TG: [heart] [heart] [heart]

You feel kind of stupid typing out the code [heart] for a heart emoji, but whatever. It works.

GG: :D  
GG: [heart]!

TG: [heart]  
TG: god jade youre just taking all the hearts right out of me arent you  
TG: what if i told you my heart only belongs to one person  
TG: you cant just take it all like that  
TG: although i guess you are anyway so it doesnt matter but like  
TG: actually fuck it here you go [heart]

GG: hehe!

God you feel like a total sap right now. Hopefully she's actually smiling over there, not just pretending she is. For now the acrostic poems are over, it looks like, but you'll be scanning everything she sends you from now on for some kind of code. And you have to tell John and Rose about this development.

* * *

That night at 3:23 AM, your phone buzzes. Lying awake and staring at the ceiling, you roll over and reach under your pillow to pull it out.

GG: hey…

TG: yo jade  
TG: sup with you  
TG: why arent you asleep

GG: i cant

TG: why not

GG: i _cant_

TG: alright spill its like three in the morning youre alone right

GG: yes i am  
GG: i  
GG: i dont know what to say  
GG: can i call you

In response, you call her, clearing your throat as you do because you haven't actually used your voice in several hours (since you bawled like a fucking idiot after you got your ass served to you earlier, courtesy of bro, that is) and you've gotta make sure it works right.

"Hi, Dave," her voice comes, breathy and quiet and a little shaky, like she's fighting back tears.

"Hey," you greet in return, wondering if your voice sounds as concerned as you feel right now. Because you're hella concerned. "You okay?"

"I…" she trails off. You hear a sniffle. "Not really."

Shit. God, you're bad at comforting people, what do you do? "What's wrong, Harls?" You roll over, momentarily forgetting the giant scrape on your hip from your rooftop sparring earlier, and have to quickly bite down a yelp and curse. _Shit_ , that hurt. Ow.

"Dave?"

"Nuh-uh," you say, gritting your teeth and glaring down at the spot where you think your hip is, under your blanket. "No changin' the subject. We're talking 'bout you." Goddammit you sound so Texan right now it's embarrassing. This is why you should not be on the phone at three in the damn morning. Except that this is Jade, and there is a lot you'd do for Jade.

She's silent for a second. It drags on and on and you're about to prod her again when she finally says, really quietly, "I can't live like this."

"Like what?" you ask immediately, whatever thoughts had been in your head discarded in favor of the sudden stillness you're acutely aware of in the night. You can hardly move in anticipation of her answer.

"Like—Dave, I can't do it," she chokes on a sob. That hurts you to hear; now you just really wish you were there to hug her or something. God, Jade deserves to be _happy_ , not whatever this is that's making her feel so hopeless. "I really wanted—I wanted to like them so much, but I can't, I can't do it because I know I'm a huge burden on them and it's awful for me to say this but they're a terrible family, they make me feel like an outcast all the time and I wish I could just disappear for a while, with some of the things they say." She's crying now, forcing words out through her tears, and your heart aches for her.

Your heart is also fucking angry, though. They tell her she's a burden and she should be grateful they're there, is that it? And they treat her like she's not really a member of their damn family? Why the fuck did they sign up as a foster home then?

"Or maybe forever," she adds, more quietly, sounding so sad and defeated and lost that you're scared she means it.

You sit up immediately, panic running through you, adrenaline with no outlet because she's not even here and there's nothing you can do. "No, don't you fucking _dare_ ," you growl. "Take that thought and put it in a shoebox and light the thing on fire, throw it out the damn window and watch it sail away into the sky. Don't you _dare_ disappear on me, Jade Harley. You hear me?"

There's a shuddering breath and then a tremulous whimper that breaks into another sob. "I'm sorry…" Her voice cracks, jumps up an octave into a pitiful squeak.

This is too much. This is too damn much. "What the hell are you apologizing for?"

"I woke you up, I made you upset, I haven't been talking to you, I'm always—I'm sorry for everything about me!" she cries. "I'm sorry, I shouldn't have called, I'm just too much of a pathetic _weakling_ to get through this on my own—"

"Whoa, whoa, slow down!" You shake your head, running a hand through your hair agitatedly. "Jade, that's—no, stop, you are incorrect, that is bullshit. First, I was already awake. Second, I'm upset at the idea of losing you. Why the fuck is that a reason to apologize? It means that newsflash—I care about you, okay? You're not a 'pathetic weakling', you're fucking brilliant and strong as hell, you're putting up with a fuckton of shit right now, and… hey," you say more gently, lowering your voice a little, because you can hear weeping from the other end of the line. "Jade, hey, hey, don't cry, it'll be okay."

There's another sniffle. "I—I love you," she blubbers.

"I love you too," you say, kind of surprised that it came out that naturally. She probably won't take it the way you think of her a lot, but honestly, she just needs to know she's loved, by a friend or not.

"I'm sorry, still," Jade says, shaky. "I haven't been talking to you like I normally would and you were worried for no reason."

For no reason, she says. For no fuckin' reason. But you'll let that slide for now in favor of tackling other parts of what she's said. "Yeah, and I'd be willin' to bet that it's not because you wanted to ignore us all. They're watching you all the time, right?"

"Yeah," she sighs. "They—they don't really like the whole internet friends thing, even though you guys are literally the only friends I have! I didn't live near people, I _need_ —I need you all. And they're so suspicious of it all! Mr. Finn got so mad at me for giving Rose my new address. That's when I stopped talking at all, because they took my phone and laptop for two weeks, I'm really sorry I worried you—"

"Yo, stop the apologies," you tell her as gently as you can. "You're fine." Your brain is turning this information over in your head. If you can set her foster family's suspicions about y'all at ease, maybe they'd be a bit better about Jade talking to you without watching over her shoulder every time she texts someone.

"Sor—oh," Jade starts, and then laughs sheepishly. It's watery and close to tears, but it's still a laugh, so you'll take it.

"So I'm starting to get an idea," you say. "It might be totally stupid, but what if we Skype call tomorrow and act all respectable and junk, let them see that I'm not some weirdo after their house or something. Maybe they'll ease up on you."

"Maybe," she sighs. "We can try, I guess…" She doesn't sound very hopeful, though. You're still determined to give it a shot. She just seems drained and hopeless and exhausted.

"You should get some rest," you suggest. "You sound tired, Harls."

"If—if you want me to go, let you sleep, yeah, I can—"

"No," you interrupt flatly, "I want you to sleep. I told you, babe, I was already awake." Wait fuck did you just call her babe? Hopefully she won't notice that. Uhhh maybe you do need to go to bed too. Whoops. "You, uh… you just sound tired. And like you've been crying a lot. And that's real tiring, so… get some rest."

Jade's quiet for a second. "I can't sleep."

"Can't, meaning what?" you ask. "Do you mean the not tired kind of can't sleep, or the don't want the pillow thoughts kind?"

"No thoughts," she says softly, almost like she's ashamed. "I'm in the back yard right now. I don't want to go back inside…"

"In the—is it fenced in or something?" you ask, flabbergasted, because she's in a suburban neighborhood sitting outside alone in the middle of the night. What is she doing?

There's something that might almost be a laugh. "Yes, it's all fenced in and safe. I'm not that dumb, promise."

Huh. Well, you guess that's okay then. So long as she's safe… "You have a new garden?"

"Sort of," she says wistfully. "It's not growing as well as my old one. I—I miss my island, Dave, I miss it so much…"

"Hey, hey, Jade," you say a little nervously, because you don't know if you can handle her crying while you helplessly sit over here again. "I know, it's hard. God, I wish I could help you more. Just… hey, tell me something. Anything you want. Let's sit and talk like it isn't late at night and like everything's okay, like we used to. How's that?"

"That—that sounds good," she says, a little shaky but seeming okay. "I can—okay. Um… There was a dance at school last weekend. I went with a few friends. It was kind of fun actually, except that on the slow dances I didn't have anyone to dance with…"

"Too bad you weren't here," you hear yourself commenting before you have the chance to process the words leaving your mouth. "I'd have danced with you all night." What. What are you saying. What. It is too late for this pseudoflirting shit and you need to stop.

Jade laughs softly. "That would have been nice," she says. "Really nice."

"Yeah," you agree. "But hey, I'm glad you had fun."

"I do like dancing, and it was neat," she says thoughtfully. You can just picture her sitting out on some stone bench surrounded by plants or something, swinging her legs and looking up at the moon. "Though it was also kinda overwhelming! I've never seen that many people in one place before."

Oh, dear god. "Just wait til you see fucking Houston," you tell her. "It's impossible to get away from them all. They're everywhere. No one in this city knows what solitude is."

"It's a city in Skyrim, of course!" she says with a tiny little tinkling laugh, sort of like she's ashamed of herself for being happy and making a joke, except that's bullshit so no.

"Virtual fist bump," you say. "Initiated."

"And completed," she smiles, you can hear it in her voice. "I think it would be nice to come to Houston, though. It would at least be better than here."

"It's not that bad," you agree. "If you came to visit, I could take you to all these cool-ass places, and you could stay with me and Bro, and it'd be fucking amazing."

"It would be," she agrees with—is that? Yup, that was a yawn.

"Jade," you say. "Go to sleep."

"I can't!" She almost sounds frustrated. "I told you, I can't go in there right now, I won't be able to _breathe_!"

"I didn't tell you to go inside," you reply, unfazed. "Just go to sleep on your hammock or wherever you are. What time do they get up on Saturdays?"

"Around nine," she says. "If I go to sleep out here, they'll probably yell at me for being ungrateful that I have a roof over my head. And I am, I really am thankful they took me in, but I don't know why they did! I'm such a burden—"

"No, you're not," you interrupt, wondering if you could just go hop in your car, drive eight hours, and punch these shitheads in the face. "They're just assholes who can't appreciate how great you are."

"I'm not that great."

"Yes you are. Go to sleep. I'll call you to wake you up before they get up. You can say you got up early to do some gardening or some shit like that."

"You—you don't have to do that for me," she says, seeming totally surprised and touched that you'd even consider it. You snort and shake your head.

"No, I don't. But I want to."

"Okay… thank you, Dave," she says, her voice dropping a little bit. "Love you."

"Love ya too, Harley," you say, preparing to set an alarm for 7:45. But she doesn't end the call, so you don't either. Is there something else…?

"I—can I just leave this on?" she says finally, sounding very unsure and very small. "I don't want to be all alone."

"Oh, uh, sure," you blink in surprise. "Yeah, go for it. I'll be right here, don't you worry your little head."

After a few minutes of silence, you hear her sniffle again. That's enough for you, and you aren't sleepy anyway, so you roll out of bed and hobble over to your guitar, bringing it back to your phone and putting the thing on speakerphone so she can hear properly.

After the first song ("When You Say Nothing At All", because you ironically listen to country a lot), she sounds a lot more relaxed when she tells you she loves your voice. By the second, her response is barely a murmur, and she falls asleep to the tune of "You Are My Sunshine".

Fast forward a few months. Rose is convinced Jade has some form of depression, John is almost constantly fretting, and you spend whatever time you can talking to her because she's so lonely, all the damn time.

Right now, you're Skyping her as she sits in the airy living room of her suburban house, her foster mother doing some paperwork at the table next to her. You've noticed how the woman always frowns and never smiles at Jade, how Jade's always on edge around her, and you have to say you really don't like her.

But you've also been planning this for a long while, like, months, and you have made yourself seem like a totally respectable, nice Southern gentlemanly boy whenever she's around. Hopefully that'll pay off, because you have a request to make of her.

"You know what would be real nice?" you say, knowing that she's eavesdropping on your convo with Jade. "I wish y'all could come visit for Christmas. It's always just me and Bro and this big ol' apartment. Kinda lonely and not really Christmas spirity, you know?"

"Aw," Jade says, clueless. "I _would_ want to spend Christmas with you, but I have family here now!" Ha, yeah fucking right. Stuff she's gotta say in front of that lady, that's what she's spouting. "It wouldn't really be right of me to leave them, would it?"

"Oh, sh— _ucks_ ," you actively have to stop yourself from saying 'shit', 'damn', 'hell', or anything along those lines. "Yeah, I was just bein' wishful, Jade. I couldn't ask you to leave your family during Christmas of all times!" Here's where you've gotta play your words just right. You can basically see Jade's foster mom's ears pricking up, listening in. "I just think it'd be real nice, because you know I've known you forever. But I couldn't ask that of y'all, I wouldn't want to get between you and Mrs. Susan over there!"

You see the woman smile to herself, nodding. Gee, what a respectable good boy you are, right? Keeping the goddamn Christmas spirit intact and everything!

Jade giggles, probably because you just said "shucks"—you, Dave Strider, just said "shucks". Let's just chalk that one up to irony. "Yeah, I'd love to see you or John or Rose for the holidays, I've known you all so long!"

Yes, good Jade, even if she's not in on your scheme—you didn't tell her what you were trying to do, because you didn't want to get her hopes up in the likely event that your subtle word games don't work.

Three… two… one—

"Well, if you really want to," Susan The Bitch says, "you could go visit your friend for Christmas. We'd miss you—" that's a fucking lie and all three of you know it. "—but it would be sad to have a totally empty house for the holidays, and I'm sure David wouldn't mind your company—and you both wouldn't get up to anything improper, of course."

"Really?" Jade gasps, her eyes shining with sudden joy and hope. In her excitement, she nearly drops the laptop from her legs to the floor, grabbing it at the last second and then squealing and clasping her hands with glee. You just put that there—the thought of coming to stay with you just put that joy there, and that thought makes you feel a small stirring of pride. "Thank you so much, ma'am!"

"You'll have to arrange for transportation," Susan says with a slight frown. "I'm sorry, but I don't think we can afford the airfare, and Finn can't drive all the way to Houston and back just to drop you off, Jade."

"I can!" you volunteer quickly, keeping up your gentlemanliness. "I have a truck. Whenever you need me to come, I can be there. You're already on break, right, Jade?"

"Yes," she says, beaming now. "When do you want to—I mean, if that's okay with you, ma'am?"

"Oh, yes, that works," The Bitch says, not even paying attention now that she's gotten rid of Jade for the holidays. "You can come pick her up whenever you like, at some decent hour of the day."

You consider that for a moment. It's like an eight hour drive, so… "How does tomorrow at four sound?" You'll have to clean up a bunch of shit tonight, and you'll have to go to bed early to get up and leave by eight, but you can do that if it means Jade will be here by midnight tomorrow.

"So soon?" The Bitch raises her eyebrows.

"I just live with my bro," you explain, giving her an easy grin and a shrug and thinking all the while _god this woman is evil_. "Stuff is pretty chill as far as he's concerned, and he knows Jade too. Not as well as me, but we've mailed each other stuff before, so he knows her from that, and then sometimes from Skype calls. I can text him now and double check, though."

You grab your phone and fiddle with it for a second, set a timer to go off with the same vibration that a text would make in four seconds, and put it down. In four seconds, it buzzes, and you swipe your thumb across the screen and pretend to read a message.

"Yup, he's cool with it!" you say. "Wants to know when your break ends and when I'll be takin' you back up north."

"Um…" Jade looks at her calendar while The Bitch nods approvingly. "I think three weeks from Tuesday is my first day back at school, so I should be back that weekend."

"Sounds good," you say, fiddling with your phone again. "I'll be there tomorrow, Jade. Better get packin'! And I should probably clean my room." Jade laughs, still looking radiant and more like Jade than she has in a long while, and nods.

"Yes, you should, you dork!" she giggles.

"Jade! Don't be rude," The Bitch scolds, frowning. Jade shrinks down a little, her enthusiasm draining away.

"Sorry, Dave," she murmurs, biting her lip and not making eye contact. What the fuck.

"You're fine," you say. When did 'dork' become rude, anyway? "For the record, though, you're a total nerd too, Jade. —Just kiddin', of course."

"Well," The Bitch says, "I think Jade really ought to go finish her chores, especially because she has to pack tonight too. The bathtub isn't going to scrub itself, after all!" She laughs as if that's funny, and then reaches over to take the computer.

"Bye, Dave," Jade says tonelessly. She doesn't even struggle at this point, just accepts what this bitch gives her, and that infuriates you.

"Bye," you say, helpless to cheer her up. "I'll see you tomorrow, 'kay?"

"Yeah," she says. "See you."

* * *

This place fucking _reeks_ of upper middle class white soccer mom, you think as you drive through the subdivision. No wonder Jade feels so stifled. Let's see, you're looking for house 638, and this is 617, 619, 623… Almost there, then.

At 3:58 PM (hell yeah, you're early), you ring the doorbell. Almost immediately there's pounding footsteps and then the door is flung open, and there's a happy shout ("Dave!") and then—

"Whoa!" You stumble back a step, catching Jade as she throws herself into your arms, laughing like she used to when she was happy all the time. You swing her around once and then hug her tight, holding her off the ground because damn, this girl is fucking tiny.

Over her shoulder, you see The Bitch approaching, a tight, fake smile on her face. You loosen your grip on Jade and let her slide down to the ground, keeping one arm around her as she places one hand on your chest and twists around to see what you're looking at.

"Hey, Mrs. Susan," you greet, giving her a casual wave and a half-smile. "Nice to meet you in person."

"Nice to meet you too, David," she says, looking at you with what she probably thinks is veiled distaste. "Jade, you ran out of the house without your luggage."

"Oh, right," Jade says a little sheepishly, her cheeks going pink. But she doesn't move from where she is, standing in your arms, until you give her a gentle nudge to the door and then follow.

"I'll get them," you offer oh-so-gallantly. "Where are they?"

"Just in the sitting room," Jade says quickly, darting past The Bitch, who steps back out of the way as you enter the house after Jade. In the sitting room, you see a huge suitcase and a duffel bag, the latter of which Jade is scooping up. It's like as big as she is, so you don't feel any guilt at all for taking it from her—oof, this thing is heavy. Right, Jade has some strength in her tiny limbs. You roll the suitcase out of the room, too, ignoring her protests that she can carry something, and out the door.

"Well, have a good time," The Bitch says, watching you leave. "Behave yourself, Jade. And Merry Christmas, David."

"Bye, Mrs. Susan," Jade says, pasting a wan smile on her face.

"Merry Christmas to you too, ma'am," you grin as fakely as you can, giving her a two-fingered salute. Then she shuts the door.

You get Jade and her stuff loaded in the truck and start driving away, because she keeps giving the house furtive glances, and then you put on the music you mixed up just for her, giving her furtive glances of your own to see whether she likes it. When she's smiling softly again, you figure you can start conversation again.

"So like… that lady knows I've been in a car for eight hours, and I get there and she throws you out and slams the door. Not even a 'do you want some water' or anythin'. Sheesh, what a bitch."

"She is that," Jade agrees warmly. "Sorry about the drive, though, I don't want to be that much trouble—"

"Nooo," you draw out the word into a groan. "Jade, look at me. Wait, fuck, no eye contact because I'm driving. Anyway, you're not trouble or a burden, I like driving anyway, and now I get to chat with you all the way home. This is like the biggest win-win ever."

"Oh," she says. Then she falls silent for a moment, tapping her fingers on the seat in time to the music. "Do you want to stop for dinner, then? I'm sure you're hungry…"

"Yeah, I was thinking we could do that," you say. "Know any good places around here, or do you just wanna grab some Mickey D's and head on south?"

"There's a little diner I like," she offers. "We could go there?"

"Tell me where to go and I will go," you say in response, looking at her for just a second with total adoration because god you are so in love with this girl. You don't even know where this thought just came from, but somehow it just hit you again, that she's beautiful and brilliant and perfect. This is your first time seeing her in person, and she's _perfect_.

When you get to the diner, you hop out of the truck and zoom around to her side. You're too late to open the door for her, but not too late to take her hand as she jumps down from the cab, and then you break coolkid protocol (you have a feeling you'll be doing this a lot) and hug her again, this time without any stupid soccer mom looming over you.

Jade lets out a little happy sigh and leans heavily into you, laying her head on your shoulder. She's just the right height for that, actually.

"You're tall," she murmurs, and you laugh over her head.

"Nah," you say. "You're just really fuckin' tiny. It works for you, though. Kinda cute, actually."

By the way she sort of laughs and clutches your shoulders, hiding her face, you know she's blushing. Are you allowed to revise your statement? _Really_ cute, actually.

Finally, you pull back, though you keep your hand in hers (and evidently she has no problem with that, because she intertwines her fingers with yours and beams brighter than the sun) and walk into the diner. Jade is hella, but so is dinner, after all.

* * *

You get home at 11:49 PM, a little earlier than you expected. Jade's asleep, so you text your bro to get him to get the suitcases out of your truck please and thanks except without the courtesies, and then you scoop her up and carry her to your apartment. She stirs and sighs and nuzzles her face into your chest, and you're left standing in the elevator with a face as red as your shirt sleeves. Thank _god_ she's asleep.

You lay her down on your bed when you get there, and then go change into an old T-shirt and some shorts because December or not, it's warm in Texas. Of course. When you turn back around, you could smack yourself—whoops, forgot to pull the blankets up over her.

You go to do that, but as you're stepping back to go sleep on the couch, her eyes flutter open and she clumsily grabs your wrist, half-asleep. "Don't go…"

"Uh…" What are you supposed to do in this situation. You do not know.

"Please?"

Oh, fuck it. You climb into your bed, flicking off the lamp. This time, you thank the darkness for hiding your definitely not blushing face as you stubbornly do not think of the cute girl who's in your bed and aw _fuck_ she's being cuddly and you're blushing so hard oh god.

The door opens and you freeze like a deer in the headlights. Bro walks in to deposit the duffel and the suitcase in your room. Then he stops and looks at you, awkwardly half sitting up with Jade's head on your chest, and he doesn't even say anything. And then he starts to laugh, the ass.

"Shut up," you mutter, doing your best to hide behind Jade's hair.

"Dude, I didn't even say anything," he teases.

"Shut up anyway."

"Oh man," he chuckles, shaking his head, as he starts to leave the room, "this is so going in the photo album."

"Don't you fucking dare!" you halfway sit up, glaring at his retreating back. He laughs and closes the door again, but you have no doubt he'll be back with a camera later.

Jade stirs in your arms, patting your shoulder sleepily. "Calm down, Dave," she slurs. "It's okay, the pumpkins will take care of it…"

"What," you say, looking down at her. She doesn't respond, and you sigh, resigning yourself to the photo album fate, and close your eyes. Hopefully she won't be weirded out in the morning, to find you being all creepy and holding her and everything. God, that isn't a conversation you're looking forward to, but you're too tired to move anyway.

* * *

In the morning, you come to consciousness very slowly. You're warm and cozy and there's something stroking your hair and there's something warm against you, and you—wait. That's a _someone_.

Oh god.

You slowly open your eyes, hoping she's still asleep, to find Jade leaning against your headboard, holding you so your head's in the crook of her neck and your arms are draped over her, both of your legs occupying pretty much the same area. It's cozy and nice, but… oh god.

"Good morning," she says like this is totally normal, and then she kisses the top of your head.

Uh… oh, right. That's probably how her grandfather woke her up in the mornings and suddenly you're sad for her now. Goddammit. Fuck that, you're too tired for this. A glance at the clock tells you it's actually morning—like, it's about nine, and no. Nope. You groan and close your eyes again. You can just… go back to sleep and postpone the "dave why are you creepily holding me as i sleep" conversation, right.

Jade laughs and gently shakes your shoulder. "Hey, sleepyhead! Wake up!"

You crack your eyes open to give her a questioning look—wait, _shit_.

Your shades are not on.

Suddenly all your indolence vanishes as you carefully close your eyes again, pretending to be totally chill. You're chill. The chill is everywhere and everything. It's you. You are chill.

"Dave?"

"It's still in the am hours," you groan. "I should not be awake."

She laughs and ruffles your hair again. "You are very warm and cuddly, you know that?"

"I'm not cuddly, I'm cool." What can you say, you really like making her laugh. And apparently, half asleep statements are the way to do that.

"I didn't know those two things were mutually exclusive," she teases. "C'mon, get up! Let's go do things!"

Doing things. How about no. Then again, if she gets out of bed, you can get your shades, and no one will be the wiser. "Fine," you groan, rolling away from her towards the wall. "There, I'm not holdin' you down anymore."

She does get up, but then she grabs your arm and tugs at you. You panic and grab the bedsheets, but they don't really give much purchase, and in the end there's Jade, you, a pillow, and half the blanket on the floor.

"Gee, thanks for the wake-up call," you say sarcastically, rolling over and grabbing your shades before she looks at you. Just before you jam them on your face, though, she hugs you from behind, pinning your arms to your sides.

"Dave?"

"Yeah?"

"I'm so happy I'm with you today," she beams. "So thank you!"

"Yeah, any time," you shrug, wriggling around to free one arm so you can pat her shoulder. Right as you're unfolding the shades, she rests her chin on your shoulder.

"Dave?"

"What?"

"Why do you always wear the shades, even inside and at night?"

Shit. "Uh, because—"

"And don't just say irony," she warns. "I know you better than that." The problem here is that she's right, she does know you better than that.

"Because people usually get weirded out by my eyes, and I've gotten used to wearing them," you finally say, distinctly uncomfortable.

"Can I see them?" she asks immediately, like you knew she would. In answer, you take a breath and then toss the shades onto the nightstand, turning around to look down at her.

She peers up at you intently. You can't really tell what she's thinking, and that kind of unnerves you, but she hasn't fled or called you a demon or anything like people have in the past, so… yeah, you're still nervous.

"I like them," she finally says, giving you a sunny smile. "They suit you."

"Uh, thanks," you reply, self-consciously rubbing the back of your head. Jade laughs, the sound calming you down a hell of a lot because it reminds you she's happy.

"You are the poster boy for bedhead," she teases, reaching up to stroke your hair into place. You really hope you aren't blushing—

The door opens. "Breakfast's ready, kids!" Bro crows, grinning like a cat with the fuckin' cream as his gaze slides on over to you. Or, at least, you think it does. His shades are in the way. Yours are still off, which is weird, and you bet he's staring at you because of that, too. "Why, Dave, you look kinda red in the face. Need some air?"

God fucking _damn_ it.

* * *

— turntechGodhead [TG] began pestering tentacleTherapist [TT] at 7:53 PM –

TG: yo rose  
TG: guess what my christmas present is  
TG: i can guarantee its better than everything youve got

TT: You can guarantee it?  
TT: Intriguing. You certainly have my attention.  
TT: What do you have, then?

TG: here ill video call you so you can see

"Yo, Jade," you say, sitting on your bed with your laptop. She's at the other end, lying on her back and listening to some music you guys mixed earlier when you showed her how to work turntables. When she looks up, you pat the bed next to you, and she rolls over.

You call Rose as Jade excitedly bounces into place at your side, leaning against your shoulder so she can be in the picture too.

"Hi, Rose!" she calls as soon as Lalonde picks up. The look of surprise on her face is priceless; you quickly screenshot it for use later. For what use, you don't really know, but you probably can find something.

"Jade?" she breathes, her face full of wonder. "I—wow! Alright, Dave, you were right, I've got nothing to top this."

Jade giggles and you affectionately drape your arm around her shoulders. "Told you I could give you a guarantee," you say, looking at Jade warmly. God, it's so good to see her happy. You don't even want to think about how in a few weeks you're going to have to hand her back off to those hellish fuckers in Oklahoma. Can't you just keep her with you here or something?

Rose laughs brightly. "Yes, you did. How are you, Jade?"

When John gets his ass online you add him to the call, too, and then all four of you are together or as together as you're gonna get anytime soon, and life is pretty good. Outside, the wind has turned chilly and you and Jade settle in with blankets and hot chocolate while your Northerner friends laugh at you and show all the snow outside their houses, but you don't even care.

This is how it should be.

* * *

Later that night, when most people (including John and Rose) are asleep, you and Jade are both lying on the living room floor amid a pile of blankets, your head on a pillow and hers on your stomach. On the TV there's a movie playing—Star Wars episode six, to be specific—but you're not really paying attention to it. You're just chatting.

"Mrs. Susan thinks you're super respectable," Jade tells you thoughtfully. "She probably thinks I'm some sort of slut, though, going over to boy's houses when I'm not even dating them. I had a study date at Matt's house the other day—and I wasn't even the only one there!—and she gave me so many dirty looks. I think she just wants to get me married off or something so she can say she's a good person for fostering a kid, without having to worry about actually raising me."

"You're probably not wrong there," you shrug. "That woman's a grade A bitch. Probably thinks teenage girls can't be trusted and all that, right?"

"Right," she says tiredly. "I think I've gotten the 'don't have sex' talk about fifteen times so far. When I said I don't even have a boyfriend she was like 'that makes it worse'!"

"The hell does she even want from you?" you snort derisively.

"Good question!" Jade throws up her hands exasperatedly. "I think she wants me to have a boyfriend and then she wants him to be stuck with me forever. At least she'd stop yelling at me all the time if I had one, maybe. There would be an end to the 'figure out your life' and 'no one could ever want you' talks."

"Excuse me, did you just say she said no one would ever want you?" you repeat, aghast. "The fuck?"

"I don't know," Jade sighs. "Sometimes I think she's right. Sometimes I think that can't possibly be it and that she's just hurting my feelings a lot, but… I don't know."

"She's wrong," you say immediately. "I told you before and I'll tell you again, you're great."

Jade turns her head to give you a little grin. "Thanks," she says. "Now if only someone could make Mrs. Susan stop lecturing me about it, everything would be even better!"

"We could tell her I'm your boyfriend," you suggest. She rolls over and turns to you, eyes wide.

"You'd do that? For _me_?"

"Huh?" Did you say something wrong? You were just suggesting fake-dating, that's a thing a friend would do right?

"You'd pretend to date me just like that, if I asked you?"

You run a hand through your hair. "Jade, I'd _actually_ date you, just like that, if you wanted me to."

Her eyes go even wider, and then suddenly she's on top of you, her arms on either side of you and her hair falling everywhere. You reach up and tuck it behind her ear, wondering if you look like as big of a mess of nerves as you feel.

"You would?" she breathes.

"Yeah," you say. "If you wanted, I would."

She kisses you, and the world dissolves into stardust and galaxies and supernovas and Jade, and it's beautiful.

* * *

"I don't want to go," she whimpers, looking small and fragile and sad and broken as she clutches your blankets around her. "Don't make me go back."

You hesitate for a long moment and then sit down, pull this blanket-swathed bundle of Jade Harley into your lap. She melts against your chest and starts to cry softly, clinging to you desperately.

"Please don't make me," she begs, over and over. "Please." You rub her back and wipe the tears from her cheeks and rock her back and forth, humming softly in the hopes that your voice will be able to soothe her where your words fail. You don't know what to do. You don't know what to say.

"Fuck it," you finally murmur, kissing her hair. "I won't. I won't. You're safe, I'm not taking you back to them." There is no way you could bring yourself to do that, not if it hurts her like this.

She cries herself to sleep in your arms, and you lie awake, staring at the ceiling and then at her. You're lost.

* * *

You try your hardest, but Bro makes her go back.

You don't talk to Bro for two weeks.

* * *

— gardenGnostic [GG] began pestering turntechGodhead [TG] at 4:48 —

GG: hey dave  
GG: did i forget a keyring with one set of keys and a mario mushroom keychain?

TG: yeah you did  
TG: need me to mail it to you

GG: no its fine!  
GG: theyre a spare set of house keys  
GG: i was just wondering where they went  
GG: so long as they arent lost its fine

TG: you sure

GG: yeah

TG: ok  
TG: how are you

GG: i miss you  
GG: i miss you i miss you so much  
GG: i cant do this i cant come back here im going to die

TG: im sorry  
TG: im so fucking sorry jade  
TG: im going to see if i can bring you home again  
TG: promise

GG: everyone hates me  
GG: i hate me!  
GG: i hate myself so much oh my god…  
GG: i shouldnt but i do  
GG: i hate myself i hate this place i want to go home

TG: objection not everyone hates you  
TG: hi  
TG: your boyfriend loves you a hell of a lot  
TG: just sayin

GG: …  
GG: … i know  
GG: i love you too

TG: [heart]  
TG: look i sent you a heart first  
TG: were getting into serious relationship territory here

GG: [heart]  
GG: i honestly think that you john and rose are the only good things in my life

TG: hey no don't say that babe  
TG: im sure theres more things  
TG: weve just gotta think of them

GG: no im pretty sure its just you guys  
GG: i hate everything about oklahoma  
GG: no one wants me here  
GG: im just the extra girl thats it

TG: would they notice if you just ran away  
TG: because i would be more than willing to be your getaway car  
TG: or getaway truck i guess

GG: i dont know  
GG: im too cowardly for that anyway  
GG: and i have to go now  
GG: theres chores to finish before i get dinner  
GG: bye dave i love you

— gardenGnostic [GG] is offline! –

TG: love you too  
TG: dammit

* * *

Rose texts you one day while you're still in class—the last class of the day, actually. Your teacher literally could not care less, so you get your phone out to look at it.

TT: Dave.  
TT: Jade just told me that The Bitch is not letting her visit anyone over Spring Break.

Oh, shit. Fuck The Bitch, let her go to fucking _hell_. What reason could she possibly have? Other than "I'm a horrible piece of shit and I just don't want people who are actually rays of sunshine in human form to be happy"?

TG: fuck  
TG: what do we do

TT: I don't know.

This is bad, this is bad, this is really bad. Jade's been looking forward to spring break since Christmas ended. You can't just leave her there like this, you have to do _something_ …

TG: is she ok

And Rose has no plan, either. None of you counted on this. Why did none of you think about The Bitch getting in the way? That was such a huge possibility! God you should have come up with a plan B.

TT: No.  
TT: She's stopped responding to me, actually.  
TT: I don't think she's okay.  
TT: Maybe she'll reply to you.

TG: yeah ok im gonna skip the rest of class  
TG: ill talk to you later im gonna call her

You grab your backpack and sling it over your shoulder, thrusting your phone back into your pocket. "Yo, teacher. Can I go to the bathroom?"

"Go ahead," the dude says blandly, not even looking up. You saunter out the door and then sprint out of the building, already hitting speed dial two as you approach the parking lot where your truck is.

"Hi," Jade greets, her voice empty and suspiciously hollow. She's been crying.

"Hey, sweetheart," you say. "Rose told me. God, I'm tempted to drive up there and murder that bitch… anyway. How're you doing, darlin'?"

The one upside to this situation is that you and Jade are a couple and you get to use cheesy nicknames for her, like 'babe', 'honey', 'sweetheart', and 'darling'. That really is not a big upside, though, not in the face of everything else. You and Jade could easily be a couple without the rest of this.

"I—not good," she admits, and all the way home you helplessly sit and hear the terrible sound of her tears.

* * *

You walk into the bedroom and flop over with a sigh, reaching for your blankets. Oh, your computer's flashing, huh. Looks like there's a message on your—

Oh god.

— gardenGnostic [GG] began pestering turntechGodhead [TG] at 2:31 AM –

GG: hi dave…  
GG: i just wanted to let you know that  
GG: i love you  
GG: i really love you  
GG: and im sorry that im letting you down like this  
GG: i just cant go on  
GG: i cant do this i cant handle anymore  
GG: and im sorry im so sorry because youre trying so hard to help me  
GG: but im just a lost cause, im too much of a weakling  
GG: i know this is going to hurt you and i am sorry  
GG: i am so sorry  
GG: i love you so much  
GG: the last thing i would ever want to do is hurt you  
GG: which i guess is fitting because its the last thing i am doing  
GG: that probably makes me a horrible girlfriend  
GG: well im horrible at everything else, why not this too!  
GG: apparently im also horrible at writing a last letter  
GG: im rambling all over the place haha  
GG: god i love you  
GG: please always remember that for me  
GG: and dont worry about me either  
GG: theres a pistol in the closet  
GG: it will be fast and painless im pretty sure  
GG: and im sorry that i couldnt go on  
GG: i know you wanted me to  
GG: all of you did  
GG: i just  
GG: i cant  
GG: im sorry  
GG: i love you

Oh _god_.

TG: no no no no no no no no no NO  
TG: im not reading this oh my god jade  
TG: pick up your fucking phone  
TG: jade  
TG: JADE  
TG: YOUD BETTER BE THERE DO YOU HEAR ME  
TG: FUCKING ANSWER ME

You jump up from your desk and feverishly pace the room, raking your hands through your hair and wiping your sweaty palms on your jeans and calling her number over and over and over. There's no response.

TG: please answer me  
TG: jade  
TG: jade i need you to be okay oh my god  
TG: jade please  
TG: dont do this dont do this to me dont you dare do this  
TG: or if youre absolutely set on it  
TG: at least say a proper fucking goodbye  
TG: so i can join you

Your heart is pounding like all the horses in the world converging on one point to fight to the death over an apple or something. Do horses even like apples? You don't know you don't care oh god Jade isn't replying _why isn't she answering her phone_. Please, _please_ let the idea of you getting hurt or trying the same thing she's pulling be as horrible for her to think about as the idea of her dying is to you. You're bluffing. Mostly. You kind of feel horrible for bluffing about _that_ of all things, but if it keeps her safe, you'll do whatever you have to. Please let it work. _Please_ let her have not pulled the trigger yet.

Your brain is an asshole and makes you consider, for one vile millisecond, the thought of your Jade lying in a pool of her own blood, unmoving, dead. You think you might throw up.

TG: if you don't reply im gonna assume youre gone  
TG: and this sword right here  
TG: its been in my leg once  
TG: that was nonfatal  
TG: i think if i put it in my heart though

GG: NO!

Relief washes through you so fast and furious that you collapse to your knees, unable to tear your gaze from the little green letters on your phone screen. She's alive, she's alive, she's alive, and you can breathe again oh thank god thank god. When your knees stop being too weak to support you, you surge to your feet and grab a hoodie and sweatpants and your car keys.

TG: pick up your phone

There is no reply.

TG: god DAMMIT jade i know youre there  
TG: youre staring at this message crying  
TG: pick up  
TG: your damn  
TG: phone

This time, when you call, she picks up. Doesn't say anything, though. That's okay. You just need her there.

"Hey," you say, not even bothering to hide the trembling in your voice. "Hey. Jade. Are you—are you there?"

Where the fuck—oh, there are the sticky notes. You grab a pen and scrawl a note to your brother—"gone to oklahoma be back later"—and slam it onto the fridge, and then you sprint out of the apartment, going down the stairs.

"I'm here," Jade whispers. God, she sounds awful; you wish she were here so you could make sure she was okay. "I—Dave," and her voice breaks, and then she starts to sob brokenly.

"Jade," you say. "Jade, talk to me."

"I don't—I don't know what to say," she wails. It hurts you to hear, and your heart is still pounding because she was that close to—to—

If you had gone to bed a few minutes earlier, she'd be…

You can't even bring yourself to think it, you can't, you can't. She's going to be okay, she's going to be okay, she's going to be okay. You repeat this thought like a mantra.

"Well, let's just talk. I'm gonna need you to make sure I don't fall asleep for the next few hours."

* * *

You are really damn glad you had the foresight to keep a phone charger in your truck, because a seven-and-a-half hour phone call is real draining on the battery. But you pull up to Jade's house around ten or eleven in the morning, having driven all night. She's still talking, though she sounds _exhausted_. But you got her to put the pistol back in the closet and to close the door on it, so that's a huge relief at least.

It turns out that she's at home alone this weekend, because the rest of the family went to a reunion and didn't want her to come. That plus the news about spring break pushed her over the edge, apparently. You're just really glad you were able to pull her back.

"Okay, question for you," you say as you park the truck in the driveway. "You feel up to getting up and walking around?"

"I want to sleep," she replies, her voice hollow and empty. "Maybe forever."

"I take that as a no," you say, tossing the now empty cup of gas station cheap coffee in the back seat. Then you climb out of the truck and head to the front door, using the key she forgot at your place to get in. From what you've seen in Skype calls, her room is upstairs and down the hall.

"Why?" she asks blandly. "I'm not hungry, if you were going to tell me to get food."

"I was going to tell you to open the front door," you reply. There—that door is hers. You open it and stick your head in, your eyes widening when you see her sitting there, tear-streaked face and dark bags under her eyes and all. She gasps when she looks up and sees you, and then you've flown across the distance to drop your phone on the bed without a care and clutch her to you, holding her more tightly than is probably comfortable. But you don't care about that either.

"Dave?" she breathes, looking like she can't even process that you're there. "You're—but—how?"

"I started driving when you picked up the phone," you murmur, kissing her hair and her forehead and her cheeks and her nose. She starts to cry harder, and you thumb away the tears. "God, Jade…"

She buries her face in your shoulder, trembling. You cradle her gently and caress her shoulders and back.

"I'm sorry," she whimpers after a long minute or two. "I can't—you didn't have to—I'm sorry."

"No, no, we're not doing the sorry game right now," you shake your head, cupping her cheek. "Jade, look at me," you say. She tilts her head back and looks up at you obligingly. "I love you," you say. "I drove here like that because I love you, and I'm not going to let _anything_ happen to you. Including yourself."

"I'm—I love you too," she whispers. "I love you so much."

You kiss her. She tastes like salty tears and you probably taste of coffee, but you don't care because she's here and she's okay and she's in your arms and you're never, ever letting her go.

"God," she says when you break apart for air. "I feel like such an idiot, I did all that and worried you and made you come all the way out here for nothing because look at me, I'm fine—"

You kiss her again, because you're not awake enough to process words to tell her that no she's not an idiot and that you love her and that she's not fine and that that's okay, and you just need her to know all of it. She clings to you.

"You're not fine," you say. "You're not fine, but you are perfect. God, Jade, don't you ever scare me like that again."

"I won't," she says, and even without the words, you know it's a promise.

* * *

You fall asleep together in her bed, both of you exhausted after being up all night. Eight hours of driving is tiring as fuck, and eight hours of on-and-off crying is too; you put the pistol on the highest rack in the closet and then wrap yourself around Jade and pull all the comforters around her too.

A good long nap later, it's noon. You wake up first and just look at her, lying there asleep. Dreamland has removed the worry from her brow and the sorrow from her eyes; she looks happy, or at peace, at least. She's beautiful.

You stroke the hair back from her cheeks and her forehead and kiss them too, still drowning in relief that she's okay, she's alive, she's alright—the fact that you had doubts about her being alive for several minutes last night still sends you reeling. Never again, never again.

You ought to message Rose and John and tell them what's happened, ask if they know (rather, if Rose knows) how to fix this issue and get Jade out of this horrible place. There's gotta be a way.

But… you can do that in a few minutes. You're just going to lie here and hold her, hold her like she's the most precious thing in the world. Which she kinda is. Actually, there's no "kinda" about it. You pull her closer and stroke her hair away from her face, pressing a kiss to her forehead again and just _looking_ at her, drinking in her presence, the fact that she's okay, everything.

Eventually she stirs, wakes up. "Oh," she says when she sees you there. "I didn't dream it…"

"Nah," you shake your head slightly, smiling just at the sound of her voice. "I'm here, Jade."

She rolls over and buries her face in your hoodie again. "I'm—"

"Not sorry, right? You weren't about to say sorry, were you?"

That gets you a soft laugh. "I love you," she says instead, raising her head to kiss your cheek. "I love you very very much."

You touch her cheek, lean your forehead against hers. "Love you too, Jade. I love you too."

* * *

— turntechGodhead [TG] opened a group memo at 15:52 –  
— turntechGodhead [TG] added ectoBiologist [EB] —  
— turntechGodhead [TG] added tentacleTherapist [TT] –

TG: shes ok

EB: THANK GOD  
EB: she hasn't been responding to a thing i've said  
EB: i was so worried!

TT: Oh, thank goodness.  
TT: I was also extremely worried.  
TT: What happened?

TG: i was awake when she sent it  
TG: talked her out of it  
TG: shes with me right now  
TG: were at my place  
TG: [image:"camera roll 341" sent]  
TG: see shes asleep on me shes ok

TT: At your place?

EB: not at theirs?

TG: yeah uh  
TG: by talked her out of it i meant that  
TG: well  
TG: i drove up to oklahoma and brought her home

TT: …  
TT: While under the circumstances I can understand why,  
TT: I don't know that that was a good idea.  
TT: Her foster family has no idea, after all.

EB: well fuck them! they don't get to have her if this is what they do  
EB: i'm going to go talk to my dad  
EB: i'll be back in a little bit!

TT: John, wait!

— ectoBiologist [EB] is now an idle chum! –

TT: Or not.

TG: but yeah youre right lalonde  
TG: i honestly dont know what to do from here  
TG: im not giving her back to them though  
TG: they will have to go through me to get her back  
TG: and they dont care enough for that

TT: Fair point, but I'm more concerned from the legal perspective.

TG: oh right thats a thing huh

TT: Yes, that is indeed a thing.  
TT: I wonder…

EB: hey guys!

TT: You're back quickly.

EB: yeah it turns out he didn't need any convincing at all!  
EB: i just asked and he said yes!

TG: asked what

EB: whether jade can come live with us, duh

TT: Wait.  
TT: What?

EB: i asked my dad if jade can come live with us  
EB: and he said yes!  
EB: now it's a matter of transferring custody or whatever  
EB: he's already emailing The Bitch and her husband now!

TT: Well.  
TT: That works out beautifully.

TG: seriously holy shit  
TG: i wish wed just done that from the beginning  
TG: for her sake i mean

TT: As do I.  
TT: This whole thing hurt her terribly.

TG: yall should come visit sometime  
TG: shes here for the foreseeable future  
TG: drop in over spring break if you want

EB: maybe!  
EB: at the very least we can skype again.

TT: Yes, agreed.  
TT: I will make every attempt to be physically present, though.  
TT: It'll be good to see you both, I think.

TG: yeah  
TG: ok shes waking up so im gonna go  
TG: i promised to finish star wars with her this evening

EB: awww.  
EB: have fun!  
EB: and take care of her dave.

TG: i will

TT: And give her all my love.

EB: mine too!

TG: got it  
TG: will deliver  
TG: no love left for either of yall its all hers now  
TG: bye

EB: bye dave!

TT: See you later.

— turntechGodhead [TG] left memo –

You close the computer and turn to Jade, who's been asleep on your shoulder for the past half hour. You've just gotten home—well, you just got home like an hour ago. Jade curled up against you and you held her until she fell asleep, and then you went to talk to John and Rose, who were probably on pins and needles this whole time. You kind of feel bad for not texting them sooner, but... well, you didn't really have a chance. Whatever though, it's all fine now.

"Hi, Dave," she says, quiet but sounding more like herself already now that she's away from that awful place.

"Hey," you give her a little smile. "Sleep well?"

"I did," she smiles back. "Your shoulders are kind of bony, but I don't mind. You're very warm and cuddly."

You actually laugh at that. "Well, that's always good to know. You're kind of tiny, but I don't mind that either. It makes it easier to hold you.." God, you're being cheesy. But then again, given the events of last night, you think you're allowed to be cheesier than nachos at the skating rink.

"I'm glad," she says with a little laugh. "It's nice when you hold me."

"It is," you agree, hugging her close. She leans against you and nuzzles your neck, and you kiss her hair and hold her tightly.

She'll be alright. You both will. You're going to make sure of it.

* * *

 _AN: The next chapter is more or less Jade's side of the story, not really a sequel. This story was published a while back on tumblr as well! I'm just finally getting around to posting it here. It's mostly the same, just with some editing. Part two will be up soon!_


	2. Jade

Your name is Jade Harley, and this isn't home, not at all.

Placing the framed photograph of Grandpa on your desk, you step back and take a deep, shaky breath, smoothing the wrinkles from your skirt with trembling hands. He's really, actually gone, buried in a lonely grave beneath the sky on your island. Your—your island, singular now, because there's only you. No Grandpa, not anymore.

"Jade?" Mrs. Susan's voice echoes up the stairwell, warm and kindly. You immediately perk up and hurry to the door.

"Yes, Ma'am?"

"Dinner's ready," she tells you as soon as your head pokes around the corner. "Come along, time to eat!"

You cast a glance backwards through the open door of your bedroom, at Grandpa's portrait. He's facing the window, the warm golden sunlight glancing off his smile. You'd like to think it's warming his face and making him happy again. Grandpa and sunlight, the late-afternoon glow of contentment and love and joy, has always meant happiness, in the past.

You turn your back on him, and the sunlight, and close the door.

* * *

 _dear diary,_

 _i miss grandpa and the island so much it hurts. i want to go home._

 _at least mr finn and mrs susan are nice! theyre kind of formal which is weird, but im sorta glad they dont want me to call them mom and dad or anything like that. it would just feel wrong after grandpa, i think. but they're nice!_

 _i dont think ben likes me that much, though. maybe hes just trying to get used to having a new face around the house? i dont know. but michael is sweet, i like michael._

 _maybe this wont be so bad. i dont know. i dont know about a lot of things, these days._

 _but i do know one thing, that grandpa taught me. i should never lose hope._

* * *

School is strange and terrifying. There are too many people here and most of them don't really talk to you, just give you a cursory look and walk along. No one loves nuclear physics, the teachers can't answer most of your questions, and you don't make that many new friends.

You don't think you like school very much. Especially because you don't know what half the social customs here are.

Keeping your head down, you walk into the cafeteria alone and glance at the lunch lines. They're really long and the food looks... less than appetizing, to put it mildly. Do you really have no choice but to eat this stuff? Ew.

On second thought, you aren't really hungry anyway. And you sure as heck aren't planning to eat this!

So you murmur an "excuse me" and slip out of line, ducking around people and trying to ignore the clamoring of your heartbeat in your ears because there are _so many_ of them and how on earth are there this many people in one place, and then you make it to the cafeteria doors and burst outside into the courtyard. Oh, you can breathe again now, in the relatively fresh air. It's rather secluded out here—there's no tables, just some benches near a few floral trees.

Breathing a sigh of relief, you shake your head to clear the panicky feeling away and go over to the nearest tree, dropping your backpack to lean against the bench as you reach up and brush your fingers along a branch. The bark is mottled and thin—this is crape myrtle. Funny that you've crossed the world and yet come here to find a plant native to southeast Asia and parts of Oceania, isn't it?

It's almost like a little bit of home, but it's been displaced too...

Wait. Why are you getting emotional about a _tree_?

God _dammit_ now you're thinking about planting flowers and trees with Grandpa and you are not going to cry, you are not going to cry, you are not. Going. To. Cry.

To distract yourself from thoughts of Grandpa, you pull a cluster of flowers down and sniff, catching a faint sweet scent. That's comforting and brings a smile back to your face, despite how out of place you feel at this school. (You will never ever be used to this many people in one place. Ever.)

"Hey!" a voice draws your attention and you jump, whirling around with wide eyes to see one of your classmates. Oh no, you can't remember his name!

"Hi," you greet with a little smile, hoping he'll say something that'll remind you what it was so you don't have to ask. That'll be awkward, if you have to.

He plops down on the bench without so much as a by-your-leave, grinning. "Jade, right? My name's Matthew, but call me Matt. We had biology together this morning, remember? With grumpypants Mrs. Cranshale?"

Matt sure talks a mile a minute! "Yes, it's Jade!" you say with a little laugh, feeling his enthusiasm lifting your spirits a little. "And yes, I remember. Is she always like ... that?" Mrs. Cranshale had gone over the rules rather crankily and had then proceeded to eye every single person suspiciously. She'd even singled you out as the new kid and warned you not to mess around with anything, whatever that meant. You had just nodded quickly to get her to go away!

Matt grins. "Yeah," he says, shaking his head. "She's got a reputation for being a crazy old lady. Thinks half the class cheats on every test, really needs to retire, the works. But this is public school, so whaddya expect! Of course it's shit, right?" He laughs. "But anyway. You said you were from ... shoot, where was it again? Guam?"

"Close," you smile, sitting down on the other side of the bench and swinging your feet back and forth. "It was actually my grandpa—my grandpa's private island, but it's kind of near Guam, yeah!"

He looks almost starstruck at the idea, letting out a low whistle before he says anything again. "That must have been so cool, living on a private island! If you don't mind me asking, what brought you to Oklahoma?"

"My grandpa died," you say bluntly. Matt's eyes go impossibly wide for a second.

"Oh my god, I'm so sorry," he scrambles to try to cover that, but you shrug slightly and give him a sad smile. "I shouldn't have asked—"

"It's fine," you shake your head quickly. "Don't worry about it! It's okay. You didn't know!"

"Are you doing okay?" he asks anxiously. "I guess you're living with family, but still that's gotta be really hard to deal with, man."

You blink. "Um, yeah! I'm fine! Well, I mean, I'm... sad, but I'm alright. My foster parents are good people!" Why is he so concerned when he just met you? Most other people at this place haven't even looked at you twice. Maybe you're about to make a new friend! That would be nice.

"Yeah, that's... good to hear," he says awkwardly. You nod because you can't think of anything else to say in response, and then both of you fall silent. The breeze picks up for a second, and you close your eyes to enjoy the feeling of it on your face. Then you laugh.

"Wow, this was a great first conversation," you say, turning back to him with a grin. "Tell me about Oklahoma, will you?"

By the way he smiles back at you, a little nervous but mostly enthusiastic and bright, you can tell you _have_ made a new friend after all. It feels really, really good.

* * *

 _dear diary,_

 _mrs susan and mr finn are less nice than i originally thought..._

 _i cant help but feel like they dont want me here. which is strange, because youd think they wouldnt have agreed to foster a child in that case! but here i am, and here they are, and it seems wrong. i cant pinpoint an exact behavior but its like im a guest in their house, one who they always remain politely distant from! there's always this look of ... displeasure, i guess? they dont seem to like me and it hurts!_

 _and ben is still really mean to me, i dont think hes forgiven me for moving in with them. at this point, im starting to wish i hadnt done it either!_

 _i just feel so empty these days, ive stopped enjoying everything i used to love and i hate it! i never have the energy but i cant sleep either._

 _this is horrible. i want to go back home with grandpa. i just want ... i want to get out of here._

* * *

You sigh wearily as you finish scrubbing the last of the dishes, closing your eyes for a moment as you just let warm water run over your reddened hands. Taking a moment, you stand absolutely still and listen to the sound of flowing water, but then that's interrupted because you can hear the low murmurs from the sitting room next to the kitchen where the rest of the family is.

They're laughing as they play cards, but you have to finish up these chores before you're allowed to join them. So you're in here alone, not really a part of the family after all. It leaves a nasty, hollow feeling in your core, and when the dishwasher is running and the sink is clean, you wash your hands and steal away up to your room.

You don't really think you want to play cards anymore, anyway. Instead, you just text John until you cry yourself to sleep.

God, you just want to go _home_.

You're in the airy living room, curled up in one corner of the leather sofa with your laptop, when Rose messages you. Immediately you check what she's said—you've been talking to your friends a lot since you got here, as a coping mechanism, but you've tapered off in the last few days because you have been trying to distract yourself from memories of home, and now you miss them. As you read, you find yourself unable to suppress a small smile as you read the purple text.

— tentacleTherapist [TT] began pestering gardenGnostic [GG] at 4:32 PM —

TT: Jade?  
TT: I see you're online, though whether that means your computer is on and you aren't at it, I am unsure.  
TT: But for whenever you do read this,  
TT: I just wanted to tell you I'm incredibly proud of you for making it this far.  
TT: It's good to be talking to you again. I was worried for a while there!  
TT: I know you're still grieving, but I hope you're starting to get a little better regardless.  
TT: Either way, warm wishes are being sent your way.  
TT: [heart]

Awww, that's sweet. You miss her too! So after a second, you touch the screen, your fingertips trailing over to brush the mauve heart, and then you shift the laptop to a more comfortable position so you can type out your reply.

GG: hi rose!  
GG: i love you too [heart]  
GG: sorry i havent been on much lately...  
GG: theres just been a lot going on ._.

TT: I know.  
TT: Don't worry about it. And don't you dare apologize to me, either.  
TT: How are you?

How are you. What an intriguing question. You pause to consider that for a long moment.

GG: homesick  
GG: i miss grandpa

"I miss Grandpa" seems to be such an inadequate phrase, so unsuited to try to encompass the vast, gaping hole where your heart is supposed to be. It was ripped out the day he died, and though it continues to beat, it just doesn't seem to have returned properly. You don't think it ever will sit comfortably in your chest ever again.

TT: I wish I could do more...  
TT: I'm so sorry, Jade.  
TT: But I am glad you're being honest with me, at least. That's one relief.  
TT: If there's ever anything I can do to help, all you have to do is ask.  
TT: Okay?

GG: yeah  
GG: thanks rose! [heart]  
GG: right now i honestly think i just need distracting  
GG: i need to stop thinking about home

TT: About home?

Shit! That was a slip! This is home now, this place!

GG: i mean the island! old home!  
GG: its where grandpa is you know?  
GG: technically i still have the legal rights to it  
GG: but i cant own property as a minor so i have to wait until im 18 to go back

TT: That is an unfortunate side-effect of majority age restrictions, yes.  
TT: Only two years, hm?

GG: two years is a long time...

TT: I suppose it is. You're right.  
TT: At least on the bright side, you're closer to us now!  
TT: Postage will be cheaper.

GG: oh yeah! on that note i havent given you my new address have i?

TT: No, you haven't.

Well you'd better fix that! Just as you type it in and hit enter, your foster brother Ben's voice distracts you. "Hey, new girl!" he jeers as you wrinkle your nose. Ben is one year older than you and makes no secret of the fact that he doesn't really like you. You would make no secret of the fact that you don't really like him either, but Grandpa taught you better than that, and you will be damned before you dishonor Grandpa's teachings. "What're you typing? Some love letter to a boy you haven't told us about? But you don't have a boyfriend, ha! No dude would want to date a girl as annoying as you."

You purse your lips and contemplate giving him a piece of your mind, or maybe telling him "actually, she's a girl!" just to see his reaction. But you don't, and instead you go back to Rose.

Apparently Ben doesn't like being ignored, because he stomps over to you and jerks the screen up so he can see.

"Hey!" you protest at the violent treatment of your computer. He ignores you.

After a second, his eyes widen. Then he turns on you accusingly. "Who the hell is this Rose bitch?"

"Don't call her that!" you defend, grabbing your computer back and glaring at him.

"What, is she your girlfriend?" Ah, of course, his dumb barbs. Is that supposed to be an insult of some kind? "Man, I knew you were a bad idea on Mom's part, but you're a _lesbian_ too? Seriously? Ugh, that's just gross—"

You shove him away, disgusted. "I'm not dating Rose! And even if I was, what would the big deal be? Oh no! A girl and a girl! Whatever would you do! Cry because no one would date you?" Oh, that was rude. You bite your tongue and immediately feel guilty, but you don't take it back. He was asking for it.

"Shut the fuck up," he snarls at you. "Who is she? You're just giving our address out to creeping dicks on the internet, aren't you! You're ungrateful and you're just trying to get us in trouble after all we've done for you—"

"Children!"

Both you and Ben freeze and then turn to the door to see Mr. Finn standing there, looking thoroughly unimpressed. "What exactly is going on here?" he asks sternly.

Before you can answer, Ben immediately straightens up and points a finger at you accusingly. "She's giving our address out to people," he says. "And she won't even say who they are! I bet she doesn't know, she's just a bitch who—"

"That's not true!" you cry in defense, shaking your head and ignoring the angry tears at the corners of your eyes. "She's a good friend of mine, I've known her almost all my life, and I trust her!"

Mr. Finn frowns and walks forward, holding out a hand. "Jade, the computer."

Meekly, you lower your head and hand it over, watching his face with trepidation as he reads the most recent pesterlog. His expression sours and darkens as he turns back to you.

"What is this?"

"She's my _friend_ ," you plead. "I've known her forever, she was one of the only people I knew from when I lived with Grandpa, please, she's not a bad person—"

"Give me your phone, too," he interrupts you. When you hesitate, he taps his foot impatiently and holds out his hand again. "Jade," he says. "The phone."

"I—but—I can't—" You don't know how to explain that you feel crushed and lonely without the reassurance of a way to contact your friends in your pocket, that you _need_ that familiar weight so you don't feel panic starting to rise for no real reason. "Please, I just—I need—"

"You're wasting my time," he says, a warning note in his voice. You subside and hand him the phone, too, feeling vaguely terrified. What are you supposed to do now? How are you going to get by? You're going to be all alone! "We will have a talk about this as soon as Susan gets home. For now, go to your room."

You don't need to be told twice. As you flee the living room, stumbling over your own feet in your haste to run before you cry in front of them, the last thing you see is Ben's glower as it shifts into a smirk, directed at the tears in your eyes. When you get upstairs, you close the door and slump to the carpet, clutching the picture of Grandpa and sobbing your heart out to his smiling, deaf face. He doesn't hear a word, and you can't help but think that you're going to need to clean the frame later.

* * *

 _dear diary,_

 _i cant stop crying._

 _i dont know what i did wrong, but the plant clippings i brought from the island to plant here are all dead._

* * *

A week passes, and Mr. Finn and Mrs. Susan still haven't given your phone or computer back. You drag yourself to school, sitting meekly in the back of class and staring longingly out the window at the blue sky. You still aren't used to seeing this many people in one place, though, and one time in history Mr. Collins calls you up to the front of the class to point out the site of some battle on the board.

There's no way to get out of this, is there?

"Ms. Harley," he calls, not unkindly. "Come on up!" He gestures to the map and beckons you forward again.

On trembling legs you stand, your fingernails digging painfully into your palms and your knuckles white from the tension in your hands. One, two, three steps, hop over a bookbag, three more steps, and you're at the front of the class.

You stare at the floor for a long time, trying to fight the growing butterflies that have skipped fluttering and are now frantically pounding away in your chest, your heart beating like it might burst. Your breaths are coming in short bursts, not slow and deep, and—

 _There are so many eyes on you right now oh god you've never seen this many people before in your life_ and then you can't take it, you drop the marker and take off running, out the classroom door and down the hallway with no clear goal in mind other than _away away away_. You have to escape you can't breathe oh god oh god oh god!

Somehow you end up in the bathroom, where your legs give out and you slide to the admittedly gross floor, trembling and gasping for breath. Fumbling fingers pull your glasses off and tuck them into your pocket, and then you bury your face in your hands and let out a soft sob. Then a new wave of terror crashes through you—please, oh, please let the school not tell Mrs. Susan or Mr. Finn about this, about how you ran out of class for no reason even though it very much feels like there was a definite reason, they will be so angry with you, oh god, you don't even want to consider that!

"Jade?" There's a soft voice, and you look up to see Bethany, one of the girls in your class. Mr. Collins must have sent her to check on you. "Are you alright, honey?"

She drops to her knees next to you, placing a tentative and very uncertain hand on your shoulder. You burst into a fresh round of tears and just shake your head, unable to find the words to reply.

"Shhh," she murmurs, wrapping her arms around you. You can tell she's not really sure what to do with you, what to make of you—the new kid, the weird one who doesn't understand social customs but spouts nuclear physics all the time—but she's trying, at least. "It's okay. It's okay."

It isn't, but you can pretend.

* * *

 _dear diary,_

 _im lonely im so lonely oh god i cant live like this i cant live like this i cant i cant i cant! everyone hates me._ _ **i**_ _hate me! i want to go home!_

 _theyll have forgotten about me by the time i get my phone or computer back oh god they wont even want me around anymore_

 _i hate this i hate this i hate this!_

 _i keep thinking this and it kind of scares me but it kind of really doesnt_

 _i want to disappear, preferably forever, and preferably really soon, too._

* * *

When they finally give you your computer back—still no phone, though, because that's easier for you to hide your supposedly illicit activities on—they only let you use it in the living room, and you have to sit with either Mrs. Susan, Mr. Finn, or Ben every time you're using it. Michael is the ten-year-old, deemed too young to keep an eye on your illegal activities.

You nervously fiddle with your hair and the bracelet on your wrist (it's woven from all the little colorful bands you used to wear on your fingers, back on the island with Grandpa) and then turn on Pesterchum. Immediately you are assaulted with notifications upwards of one hundred from each of your friends, where do you even start first?

After a moment you decide on Dave. You haven't talked to Dave in a while and you miss him. A lot.

There is a wall of red text to be read.

TG: yo  
TG: sup  
TG: you busy  
TG: guess so  
TG: later then

TG: are you still busy  
TG: dammit jade i wanted to show you the new mix i made  
TG: its so sweet man  
TG: better than an orange creamsicle on a fucking hot texas summer day  
TG: seriously texas summers are so hot you cant even eat a goddamn creamsicle  
TG: they melt as soon as you take them out of the freezer  
TG: its like oh no hot place and hotter dude  
TG: gotta turn into liquid  
TG: wait  
TG: ok i should probably not take this in the direction its going in  
TG: or should i

TG: jaaaaaade  
TG: why wont you answer im so damn bored

TG: ok its been like twenty four hours fifteen minutes and thirty nine seconds since you were online  
TG: whats up with that

TG: are you okay  
TG: youre starting to worry egbert and lalonde you know

TG: add me to that list now

TG: jade

TG: jade

TG: jade

TG: jade

TG: dammit jade please be ok

TG: jade

TG: jade

TG: im scrolling through this shit from the past few days now  
TG: its been three days where are you  
TG: do you want me to ramble about fucking ice cream  
TG: and no i do not mean it as in "this goddamn ice cream here"  
TG: i mean it as in "have sexual intercourse with the ice cream and maybe also a smuppet"  
TG: if you dont answer me in five minutes  
TG: i will do it  
TG: ...  
TG: its been five minutes  
TG: i warned you

Ewwwww Dave no!

You figure it's okay if you ... sort of just ... skip the next few blocks of text. Eventually you reach the bottom, and seeing that he's online, you immediately decide to say hi. You have a plan, and you need to tell at least one of your friends something.

—gardenGnostic [GG] is now pestering turntechGodhead [TG] as of 3:48 PM—

GG: hi dave [heart]

You really hope he'll get what you're going to try. You need to talk to him or John or Rose, but you don't know if John would get the hint and you were talking to Rose last time when they flipped out on you, so you guess Dave is the best bet.

The 'typing' icon lights up and you have a feeling you're about to receive a diatribe about disappearing from the face of the planet. Oops...

TG: yo  
TG: nice to hear from you  
TG: i was starting to think you dropped off the face of the earth  
TG: howre things going

GG: things are going okay!  
GG: honestly ive just been kind of busy these days  
GG: everything happens so fast you know?  
GG: you shouldnt have worried about me though :c

You wish you could tell him the real reason, but you can't. Not while stupid Ben is all but breathing down your neck, making sure you aren't saying anything you shouldn't be. So instead you act callous and indifferent, even though it hurts you to do so.

TG: jade youve gotta understand thats how i roll  
TG: its like a thing that most people who are friends with each other do  
TG: when they drop all communications for days  
TG: people get all hella worried

You internally wince as you blatantly change the subject, because Dave just admitted he was worried. "Hella" worried. Dave never says he's worried, never ever. But now, time to give him the clue as to what you're doing...

GG: also dave!  
GG: rapping is up your alley i know but i was wondering  
GG: ever tried acrostic poetry?

TG: no i cant say that i have  
TG: why

GG: well i dont know!  
GG: a while ago i saw something and i thought of you  
GG: the whole 'clever wordplay' thing seemed like it might be a thing you like!  
GG: can you blame me for asking?  
GG: hehe you ARE the one who sends me random raps in the middle of the night!  
GG: i wish i could find the poem in question to show you though…  
GG: not gonna lie it was cool!  
GG: gosh though i wish i could remember the name

TG: acrostic poetry huh  
TG: rapping is different from poetry though  
TG: everyone can slap words together jade

GG: different how? :o

Is he responding in the same way? That could easily say "are". You guess you'll just stall with one-line replies and see. This is such a rudimentary stupid form of communication! Ugh! You hate this!

TG: you have to feel the beat for a rap  
TG: on a poem its just like whatever works dude  
TG: use some flowery words sure whatever

GG: and all those metaphors right? hehe, you and your metaphors!

TG: oh sure those are there too  
TG: kinda like the backbone to any good rap or poem or  
TG: anything really  
TG: youve gotta get the metaphors down harley take notes

"Are you okay", he's asking. What is it with this question? You're so absolutely terrible at answering it. But this time, you think you'll answer with the truth: no, you really aren't okay.

GG: notes okay got it! :D  
GG: okayyy metaphors hehe what else?

There's a pause. You see his icon start typing, then stop, then start again. Evidently, he hadn't been expecting you to say that, and immediately you feel bad for saying that truth because now he's worried or upset or something and you don't want that, you want him to be happy! Not worried, not upset!

Then again, are you being selfish in assuming he'd really get worried about _you_? You aren't sure.

TG: lots of stuff  
TG: oh man there is a lot of stuff jade  
TG: very serious business is going down in the wordplay world  
TG: everyones like holy shit look at those goddamn stock transactions

GG: what?

TG: you heard me right im talking about metaphorical metaphors  
TG: are you surprised

What...?

Oh.

 _Oh_.

You feel a little bit warmer now.

GG: …  
GG: i am not surprised  
GG: after all you are a big dork [heart]

TG: im actually really cool you know  
TG: …  
TG: [heart] to you too though

GG: :D  
GG: aw i feel special!  
GG: you never do hearts back!

TG: do i not  
TG: well damn i should fix that  
TG: here this should help remedy all the times ive skipped out on hearts  
TG: [heart]

There's no more acrostics going on now, but that's okay. This is fine. Ben probably thinks you're just being silly or flirty or whatever, but he's so wrong you could laugh if you weren't already close to crying. And Dave, oh, Dave is actually being affectionate, or as affectionate as he gets!

This makes you a little happier, at least. This is not bad.

GG: :D  
GG: [heart]!

TG: [heart]  
TG: god jade youre just taking all the hearts right out of me arent you  
TG: what if i told you my heart only belongs to one person  
TG: you cant just take it all like that  
TG: although i guess you are anyway so it doesnt matter but like  
TG: actually fuck it here you go [heart]

GG: hehe!  
GG: how sweet you are!

TG: hell yeah you know it  
TG: im the sweetest there is  
TG: forget all that splenda and weak shit  
TG: im the real deal  
TG: refined sugarcane and all that jazz

You almost giggle out loud at that, despite the lump that's been in your throat all day. Dave always has this effect on you, doesn't he? He always can make you smile.

"What's so funny about this punk?" Ben mutters. "Stop flirting with him."

"Why?" you ask, barely stopping yourself from adding _are you jealous_? But that would be rude and you aren't doing that. Even though it is really tempting. Oh wait, did you just admit to flirting with Dave?

Whoops a daisy.

"Because you're trying too hard to not seem like a weird kid from nowhere who doesn't know how to function in actual society," he answers rudely. You roll your eyes—you should have known there was no point in starting conversations with him. He's just always mad at you because apparently the room you're staying in is his old one and he feels personally affronted by that, and because you had a panic attack in front of the girl he likes and took her attention away from him. Because, you know, that had been your intent, right?

"Key word," you say absently instead of letting him see that you're bothered. "Trying."

GG: yes you are [heart]  
GG: youre the sweetest there is and i love you!

TG: oh damn  
TG: look at this whole outpouring of love  
TG: but ive gotta disagree there  
TG: i cant possibly be the sweetest there is if youre literally right there  
TG: im refined sugarcane youre just pure sugar  
TG: which is to say youd better be smiling because you deserve it ok  
TG: and that is to say  
TG: love ya too harls

You do smile.

* * *

All through the next day, after your scant three or so hours of sleep out in the garden because you were outside all night—you just couldn't breathe in the house, and you were on the phone late with Dave—you're exhausted beyond belief, and you're sluggish to answer Rose and John when they pester you as they always do.

EB: how are you today? you seem kind of out of it, jade...  
EB: is everything okay?

You blink. You are _really_ bad at hiding things, aren't you? Weird, you really thought you were good at that. Maybe you just stopped being good at hiding things the same

GG: ummmm...  
GG: everything is...  
GG: better than it has been for a little while at least?  
GG: i have my phone back after all  
GG: thats gotta count for something!

EB: yeah it does!  
EB: but... that doesn't fully answer my question.

You fidget for a second before you start typing out a response, frowning slightly as you do so. John is amazing and you love him, but sometimes he displays an uncanny astuteness that you're only really used to seeing in yourself—he can always pinpoint problems and tell when people are hiding things. Which is great, right up until he starts pinpointing _your_ problems and _your_ hidden things.

GG: i dont know john...  
GG: im sad but im not as sad as i was yesterday if that helps at all  
GG: but whether everything is ok i just don't know

EB: i see...  
EB: well, if it isn't okay right now, that's alright!  
EB: i'm going to make it okay.  
EB: don't worry! dave and rose and me will take care of you!

GG: thanks john [heart]

EB: anytime [heart]

You sigh and scrub at your eyes. One day, could you maybe just stop crying? Soon, preferably? That would be nice. But you don't know if that day will come before the day you die.

 _That should be soon, preferably_ , you think, and then feel a jolt of fear that you just thought that. You bury your face in your hands and try to think of something else. You're not entirely successful.

* * *

 _dear diary,_

 _something is wrong with me and i dont know what, but it scares me..._

 _i want to go home. i want to be with my friends. i want to be anywhere but here. i cant do this. i had the most terrifying thought earlier, that i ... that i want to die, and im so scared! but at the same time i cant bring myself to care. theres no way i can tell anyone._

 _that scares me even more._

 _i want to go home. i miss grandpa._

* * *

Someone knocks on your bedroom door one evening when you're Skyping Dave; you quickly minimize the program, call "Come in!", and take one of the headphones out without a word. Dave will understand someone just knocked.

Ben pokes his head in, to your surprise. You raise an eyebrow, especially when he sort of just looks at the floor almost sheepishly.

"Yes?"

"Hey, uh... look. I have a biology exam tomorrow and I have no idea what the fuck is going on. Teach me, will you?" he mutters, scuffing his feet on your rug. You blink in surprise.

In your ear, Dave scoffs. "Tell him to fuck off," he says. You try to keep your lips from twitching and shake your head slightly.

"What's the exam on?" you ask Ben, scooting over towards your laptop to make room for him to sit on the end of your bed. He does, passing you the sheaf of papers in his hand—messy, sparse scribbles of notes. You can tell he wasn't paying attention when he took these, but you can get the general gist of the chapter—DNA replication and subsequent processes. That's easy, you can explain that with your eyes closed!

"No idea, but I'm gonna fail and Dad's gonna kill me," he shrugs. You feel a bit of sympathy stirring.

"No, you're not going to fail," you shake your head. "Don't worry! I'll teach you, you'll get it!"

He smiles at you wanly, crossing his arms loosely across his chest, and nods. "Sure."

"Are you for real, Jade?" Dave asks incredulously. "The guy's such an asshole except when he needs shit from you! Why are you helping him?"

You sigh and pick up the laptop, typing a quick message into the chat box and sending it to him.

GG: just because hes awful to me doesnt mean i have to be awful back  
GG: grandpa always taught me to try to see the best in everyone!  
GG: thats all im trying to do!

"You are such a damn idealist," comes the reply. You would feel a bit hurt, except his voice has gotten a lot softer. "I swear to god, you're too nice to every douche you meet. That includes me."

GG: youre not a douche dave [heart]

He laughs softly at that, and even though the video chat is still minimized you can imagine the lopsided little grin he's probably wearing right now. The thought warms your heart and brings a smile to your face, just as much as the sound of his laughter does.

"So?" Ben asks. "What the hell is all this _stupid_ shit anyway?" He sounds frustrated. You shake your head.

"Calm down," you tell him. "You know how the DNA is in the nucleus, right? And the nucleus is covered in nuclear pores? Well, there's this thing called RNA, and that a form of that called mRNA, which means messenger RNA, is always made in the nucleus by a process called transcription..."

Several hours later, he leaves, feeling a lot more confident in his biology. You watch him go and wish him a good night, feeling a lot more confident that this family will work out after all, you just had to give it time.

* * *

"Well," Mrs. Susan says with a frown, "Mrs. Gwendoline is an old _family_ friend, and if I were to bring a young lady over, she would expect a more, ah, refined one."

So you're staying home alone then, while they go visit a friend for dinner. Got it.

So much for the family working out.

You nod your understanding, keeping your eyes on the floor, and bite your lip hard to keep any tears from spilling. You feel so unwanted, so much like a second-class human being...

"May I be excused?" The words fall quietly from your lips, tumbling out just a split second before any tears can follow. You clam up and refuse to let them fall. It's so stupid, you have to be super courteous and polite all the time even when Ben and Michael aren't, and it hurts to act like a guest in your own home, oh _god_ it hurts. Because this really isn't your home!

"Yes, go on," Mrs. Susan dismissively waves a hand at you. She's so distant, so cold, so different from the warm and kind woman you met the first week you were in this house. Why did she change? What did you do wrong?

You turn and hurry upstairs, closing and locking your door before you sink onto the bed, pulling the covers over your head and crying softly into your pillow.

A few minutes after that, as your tears keep soaking into the fabric, you hear the door close and the car pull out of the garage, and then there's silence. A painful, lonely silence that reminds you of days on the island, those awful few days without Grandpa...

 _Bzzzzz-bzzzzz. Bzzzzz-bzzzz._

Someone is calling. Sniffling, you grab your phone and look at its screen with blurred vision.

"Dave?"

"Hey, Jade—oh shit, are you okay?"

"They don't want me," you whimper, taking a deep, shaky breath. "They don't want me, oh, god, Dave, I want to go home, they don't want me here!"

"Hey, hey, hey, don't cry!" he says hurriedly. "What happened? What's wrong?"

"They basically—" you hiccup a sob and wipe at your eyes, feeling the raw pain from Mrs. Susan's words searing through you again, red hot as if she had just finished saying them. "They said I'm not really part of the family, that I'm not good enough, that I'm—I'm—" you break off, wanting to say _I want to go home_ again, but you've already said that.

"Well, fuck them with a rusty barbed wire fence," Dave suggests, a grim and cold note in his voice that you hadn't expected. "I swear to god, if those fucking _assholes_ make you cry again, I'm driving up there with a sword."

You cringe and shrink even further into your blankets, pulling them around you. You didn't mean to upset him, you didn't mean to upset him! "I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I shouldn't have said anything, I'm sorry, I—"

"Jade."

You stop. The cold anger is gone, replaced by warm concern.

He sighs. You can just imagine he's closed his eyes and is running his hand through his hair—it's a habit you've noticed in him over Skype, he always does that when he's stressed or nervous or exasperated. "Don't you dare apologize to me when you haven't done a single fucking thing wrong. We've had this discussion before and I'm not dumb enough to think we won't have it again, but I'mma say it anyway. Don't you dare. Now I want you to start smiling again, 'kay?"

You don't reply. You aren't sure you remember _how_ to smile.

* * *

 _dear diary,_

 _i have my phone back now, finally. i think maybe ill start being able to sleep properly again. is it bad that its something that makes me feel safer? i feel like if i ever need someone theyre within reach if i have it with me. mrs. susan tells me thats a bad thing, that im too tech dependent. i grew up alone! what was i supposed to do!_

 _also people at school keep saying i have an accent and it makes me sad that they make fun of it. i hate standing out for everything like this. i want it to stop. i just want it all to stop._

* * *

Skyping Dave in the living room always makes you a little nervous, honestly, because someone is always there. Today it's Mrs. Susan. Dave's playing up the cute country boy persona, turning on his full charm—which, you have to say, is quite formidable. He is _very_ charming. (Swoon!)

Right now he's talking about Christmas plans and things, and how lonely it gets in Houston with just him and his brother. You see Mrs. Susan shake her head out of the corner of your eye, and internally roll your eyes at her because you know precisely what it is that she's thinking—how sad it is that a good boy like him should have to grow up alone like that, and how swell it is (how swell how swell) that he's still a good boy despite that. It kind of makes you want to laugh, because she's soooo wrong and this is Dave putting on charades, but you don't have the happiness in you to really laugh right now.

You might soon, though. Dave looks like he's making his best effort to get you to smile. Maybe he'll be successful—he usually is, in this endeavor at least.

You keep on talking to him, just drinking in his presence and thinking about how there's only two years, and then you can go back home, but then suddenly Mrs. Susan says something you never in your wildest dreams thought you'd hear her say:

"Well, if you really want to, you could go visit your friend for Christmas. We'd miss you, but it would be sad to have a totally empty house for the holidays, and I'm sure David wouldn't mind your company—and you both wouldn't get up to anything improper, of course."

You have to swallow a shriek of joy that rises in your throat. Nevertheless your eyes are shining big and bright and Dave looks incredibly proud of himself, and you can't even _remember_ the last time you felt this happy!

"Really?" you look at Mrs. Susan with awe and wonder in your face. You can't believe this is happening, you can't believe this is really happening! You're getting out of here! "Thank you so much, ma'am!" You're so excited so excited so excited! Bouncing in place, you nearly drop the laptop as you clap your hands in glee—whoops! You grab it at the last second and beam.

Dave grins broadly at you. Before he can say anything, though, Mrs. Susan frowns.

"You'll have to arrange for transportation," she says. "I'm sorry, but I don't think we can afford the airfare, and Finn can't drive all the way to Houston and back just to drop you off, Jade."

That would have popped your bubble of joy, except that before it does, Dave jumps in.

"I can," he volunteers, the picture of a respectable, good Southern boy. You wish he was here so you could just hug him! You're so happy! Is it reasonable to get so happy over a simple trip? Maybe not, but when that trip means you get a reprieve from this place and the huge family gathering happening next week—the one that means you'll get even more ostracized? You're super, super happy. "I have a truck, I can come. Whenever you need me, I'll be there."

He looks straight into the camera—straight at you—with those words, and you have a funny feeling he doesn't just mean that in terms of transportation.

"You're already on break, right, Jade?" he adds, the intentness of his gaze softening again as he plays up the charade again.

"Yes," you say, beaming at him and trying to stop being excited long enough to actually plan this out. You feel so warm and happy! "When do you want to—" you break off, swiveling your head to look at Mrs. Susan. "I mean, sorry, if that's okay with you, ma'am?"

She's not even looking at you anymore, flipping through a magazine now. "Oh, yes, that works. You can come pick her up whenever you like, at some decent hour of the day."

Dave cocks his head to the side, thinking for a second. It's frankly adorable, but you won't tell him that in front of Mrs. Susan. "How does tomorrow at four sound?" he asks, and your eyes widen because that's less than twenty four hours from now and you're going to see Dave in less than twenty four hours!

"So soon?" Mrs. Susan asks, her eyebrows raised now, and you stifle your disappointment. Of course she'd push it back.

Something in his face changes, something with distaste and irritation and something you can't place. Maybe he saw the dejection in your expression anyway. You've never been particularly good at hiding things in your facial expressions. But it looks like Dave isn't giving in that easily.

"I just live with my bro," he explains to Mrs. Susan with an easy smile that you can tell is pasted on. "Stuff is pretty chill as far as he's concerned, and he knows Jade, too. Not as well as me, but we've mailed each other stuff before, so he knows her from that, and then sometimes from Skype calls. I can text him now and double check, though."

He picks up his phone and texts his brother, receiving a response fairly quickly. Then he looks up with a bright, boyish grin that's even more adorable than his thoughtful face.

"Yup, he's cool with it!"

And just like that, your excitement and hope come back.

"Wants to know when your break ends and when I'll be takin' you back up north," he adds, and you blink and then check your school calendar.

"Um, I think three weeks from Tuesday is my first day back at school," you tell him, "so I should be back that weekend." Ew, coming back. You don't want to think about that. But on the bright side you're going to spend Christmas with Dave! You're spending Christmas _with Dave_! This is really, actually happening!

"Sounds good. I'll be there tomorrow, Jade. Better get packin'!" he teases, then looks around. "And I should probably clean my room."

You laugh joyously. "Yes, you should, you dork!" you giggle, but that was a mistake, because Mrs. Susan looks up sharply.

"Jade!" she reprimands sternly. "Don't be rude."

You shrink back into yourself, all your excitement gone suddenly like the popping of a balloon, just with four words. "Sorry, Dave," you murmur, biting your lip and staring at your hands in your lap. You want to disappear again...

He sounds bewildered. "You're fine." Then he gets the lighthearted note in his voice again as he says "For the record though, you're a total nerd. –Just kidding, of course."

Your eyes flicker back to the screen as you give him a wan smile. Mrs. Susan clears her throat. "Well," she says, "I really think Jade ought to go finish her chores, especially because she has to pack tonight too. The bathtub isn't going to scrub itself, after all!" She laughs as if she just made a great joke, and you press your lips together firmly.

You aren't out of hell yet, are you. "Bye, Dave."

"Bye," he says, sounding like he really doesn't want to go. "I'll see you tomorrow, kay?"

"Yeah," you say. "See you." Then you hang up and go to finish all that you have to do. Tomorrow is still a long way away, and right now it just feels like it's a far-off dream.

* * *

When he gets to your house, as soon as you see Dave you just about tackle him, squealing with excitement. He swings you around and hugs you tightly, and it's better than you could have ever imagined.

In the truck on the way home, he puts on some excellent music. Between that, this newfound sense of freedom, and—in Dave's words—being "stuck in a truck with a charming asshole for eight hours", you're feeling a lot better about life in general already!

You stop for ice cream around halfway through the drive. It's about eight or nine o'clock, so the parking lot isn't too full when Dave pulls in and you bend over to try and find your shoes somewhere on the floor. Whoops, you really should have put those on sooner, shouldn't you? Now you're holding him up and even as you slide your feet back into the sandals you can just _hear_ Mrs. Susan telling you this is why you're a disappointment, why no one will ever want you if you don't shape up in life—

The door opens and you look up to see Dave standing there. You're expecting a 'hurry up' or a 'what's taking so long' and internally cringe, bracing yourself for that, when instead he grins. "Sweet, I got to exercise my gentlemanly skills and beat you to the door this time," he says, and you blink. What?

He offers you his hand and you take it as you clamber out of the seat and jump down from the cab—his truck is made for tall people, like him, not short people like you. He closes the door and is about to walk to the ice cream parlor, and you try to quickly swallow and banish the feelings of inadequacy that seem to swamp you as a default—you should be enjoying this more!—when he pauses, frowns, and looks back at you more carefully.

"Jade?"

"Yeah?"

For a second, he looks like he's about to say something. Then, he changes his mind and lets go of your hand to pull you into a hug again; you melt against him and bury your face in his shoulder, taking a deep breath.

"You okay?" he asks quietly, resting his cheek against your temple. "You look sad."

"I'm ... I'm okay," you murmur without pulling away. Okay or not, you want to be held. No one has held you like this since Grandpa died. This is nice, this is good, and you want it to last.

"You sure?"

Another deep, shaky breath. "Yeah. I... I just was thinking... well, I don't know. It was stupid," you say with a sheepish laugh, internally berating yourself. Stupid, stupid, stupid! Dave wouldn't yell at you about your shoes, he's not a mean person like Mrs. Susan! God you want to stop worrying about these irrational things, but somehow you can't. Rose says she thinks it's a mark that you have an anxiety disorder and depression, but you don't really know about that. All you know is that this is stupid and you hate it.

He hugs you tighter for a second, then pulls back and looks down at you, seemingly pondering what to say. You decide you really don't want to talk about it, don't want to tell him 'whoops, I'm an idiot who thought you were going to be mad at me for some reason, and I'm really upset that my default thoughts are starting to be what they tell me about myself', so you change the subject.

"You are really tall," you tell him, looking up with a little smile—and it's true, and your smile is genuine. He is tall. You told him this when you stopped for dinner, right after he picked you up, but between then and now you managed to just sort of forget just how tall he is. All his height comes from his long legs, and when he sits next to you in the car, the difference is easy to overlook!

"You are really short," he replies with an easy grin, ruffling your hair. You laugh at that, feeling the insecurities and feelings of disgust at yourself draining away. Then he steps back, settling his arm around your waist casually, and you lean into his touch as you both walk into the ice cream parlor.

By the time you walk out, cones in hand, you feel much better again, enough to laugh at almost all of his jokes—just not the gross ones, which you tell him are gross, and then you giggle at his indignant expression. And as you get back into the truck to head down south, you keep thinking about how the woman behind the counter remarked sunnily that you both made a cute couple.

And also about how Dave nodded in agreement.

* * *

Christmas break is definitely the best thing that's happened to you all year.

Right now you're watching Star Wars, lying with your head on Dave's stomach. His fingers are playing with your hair idly even though he's watching the screen; you don't think he's even noticed what he's doing. It feels nice, though. You like people playing with your hair!

He snorts audibly when Han berates Chewbacca for "thinking with his stomach", and you giggle. That draws his attention down to you, and you wave at him with a grin.

"What?" he asks.

"I don't know!" you shrug. He rolls his eyes—you can see them now, because after you told him you liked his eyes, he's stopped wearing the shades all the time around the house—and chuckles. You scoot over a bit so your head is on his chest instead and just look up at him, thinking for a long moment about how much he means to you, because his hand just came to rest on your shoulder in a casually protective embrace and you feel a strong surge of affection for him now.

A few moments later, his gaze drifts down from the screen to you again, and he raises an eyebrow. "Weren't you the one who wanted to watch this to begin with? And now here you are, starin' at me instead. C'mon, Harley, I know I'm handsome, but really."

You laugh and lightly swat the side of his head as he grins charmingly. "I've seen it a bazillion times!"

"Me too," he shrugs. "I mean, it's Star Wars. Who _hasn't_ seen Star Wars? Only total losers, that's who. People who need to get their lives together. That's who. And we are not those."

"True," you concur. "Besides, this part is sad! I don't wanna watch the sad part."

"Sad? How the fuck did you get sad from this part?" he asks incredulously. "There's exploding shit and demonic teddy bears with spears. Where did sad come from?"

"All the clones!" you exclaim. "They keep dying for no reason! I feel bad for them!"

He stares at you for a moment, and then he starts to laugh. After a moment, when you've lapsed into a comfortable silence again, he speaks up. "You know, I still can hardly believe you're actually here. Like, damn, we actually pulled this shit off, you know?"

You nod, your hand finding his where it rests on your shoulder. "I'm happy it worked," you say softly. "If I'd had to stay there..."

Dave gives you a comforting squeeze. "No need to dwell on what-ifs and could-have-beens," he says reasonably. "Let's just focus on the badassness of the heist we pulled off to get you here. I can't believe the Bitch actually let you get in a truck with me and drive off!" He laughs.

"The Bitch?" you ask, raising your eyebrows at him.

"Your Mrs. Susan," he shrugs. "It's what Rose, John, and I all call her."

You laugh. "You know, Mrs. Susan thinks you're super respectable. She probably thinks I'm some sort of slut, though, going over to boy's houses when I'm not even dating them. I had a study date at Matt's house the other day—and I wasn't even the only one there!—and she gave me so many dirty looks. I think she just wants to get me married off or something so she can say she's a good person for fostering a kid, without having to worry about actually raising me."

Dave shrugs again. "You're probably not wrong there," he says. "That woman's a grade A bitch. Probably thinks teenage girls can't be trusted and all that, right?" He sounds so skeptical of her that you think that if you were predisposed towards metaphors, you'd say he just rolled his eyes verbally.

"Right," you sigh in agreement. "I think I've gotten the 'don't have sex' talk about fifteen times so far. When I said I don't even have a boyfriend she was like 'that makes it worse'!"

He lets out a derisive snort. "The hell does she even want from you?"

The million dollar question! "Good question!" you throw up your hands, exasperated beyond belief with Mrs. Susan and her stupid system of hating you no matter what you do. "I think she wants me to have a boyfriend and then she wants him to be stuck with me forever. At least she'd stop yelling at me all the time if I had one, maybe. There would be an end to the 'figure out your life' and 'no one could ever want you' talks." You've had enough of both of those for several lifetimes, thanks. It's made you consider actually trying to find a boyfriend, except that there's only one boy you'd ever want to date and he's holding you right now, but you don't think that'll ever happen.

Under you, Dave stiffens slightly. "Excuse me," he says, "did you just say that she said no one would ever want you? The fuck?" He sounds indignant. You wonder if he's going to threaten to drive back to Oklahoma with a sword again. You hope not. You don't want to cause drama or make anyone, least of all him, upset.

"I don't know," you sigh, because your thoughts are honestly more than a little jumbled on the subject. "Sometimes I think she's right. Sometimes I think that can't possibly be it and that she's just hurting my feelings a lot, but ... I don't know." You've been surrounded by vitriol long enough that it's really getting into your head. You don't even know which thoughts are yours really and which ones were planted there by months of being put down!

"She's wrong," Dave says, leaving no room for doubt. "I told you before and I'll tell you again, you're great."

You turn to look up at him with a smile. "Thanks." And you mean it. It's lovely of him to say so. "Now if only someone could make Mrs. Susan stop lecturing me about it, everything would be even better!" You just really really really want that stuff out of your head all the time!

"We could tell her I'm your boyfriend," he suggests. Wait—what! Did you hear that right? You couldn't possibly have heard that right. He really just said he'd pretend to be your boyfriend, just for you? You, of all people?

"You'd do that? For _me_?" you breathe. He looks a bit bemused.

"Huh?"

You shift so you can look at him more directly, your eyes wide. "You'd pretend to date me, just like that, if I asked you?"

He runs his hand through his hair—a sign of nerves—and looks you straight in the eyes. "Jade," he says, "I'd _actually_ date you, just like that, if you wanted me to."

You—Dave—you can hardly believe this. Rolling over you sit up halfway, leaning on one arm over him. Your hair falls around your face as you stare at him, still stunned but also thinking that his face is really close to yours now, and then he reaches up and gently tucks a lock of hair behind your ear, his fingers brushing your cheek and sending a thrill zinging down your spine. You think your face goes pink, but you aren't too sure because you're focused totally on him, acutely aware of every second ticking by.

"You would?"

"Yeah," he says. "If you wanted, I would."

You lean down and kiss him softly, closing your eyes, and he wraps his arms around you and holds you close, cradles you against him so so gently, until you pull away. He smiles at you, impossibly tenderly, and then pulls you back in again, until the sudden _PEW PEW!_ of a blaster shot from the movie makes you jump. Then you both laugh.

* * *

He gives you a simple locket for Christmas. You put a picture of the two of you inside it and clasp it around your neck, so that the pendant lies close to your heart.

On New Year's, you share a kiss as fireworks explode overhead on the beach, and it's _perfect_.

* * *

"Dave, stop," you plead, tears streaming down your face. He shakes his head once, curt, and resumes staring at his brother, sword in hand. "I'll—I'll go back, I'll be fine, just please don't fight, please don't get hurt, Dave..."

Bro raises an eyebrow. "Seriously, kid?" he asks, the levity of his words destroyed by the quiet gravity of his voice. "Put the damn sword down and either get in the car or go to your room, I don't give a fuck which. She's leaving today."

"No," Dave glares. "I won't, and she's not."

"Please don't fight, please don't fight, please don't fight," you repeat like a sobbed mantra, rocking back and forth and clutching your knees to your chest. "Please, please—please don't, oh god, don't fight!"

Neither one of them listens to you.

"Dave, I'm giving you one last chance to put the sword away," Bro warns, an ominous edge in his voice like the rumble of thunder before the downpour starts. "I don't care how in love or whatever you are. I'm not breaking the damn law and kidnapping her. She goes back. Now."

"No!" Dave's grip on the sword tightens ever so slightly.

"Fine." Bro's voice is quiet, but cold and hard as steel, just like the sword he slides from its sheath.

You scream as the first strike rings out, and in the end, you leave the apartment sobbing brokenly, crying so hard you can barely breathe, as you step over the unconscious and somewhat bruised form of your boyfriend.

* * *

 _dear diary,_

 _im back here and i want to die._

* * *

—tentacleTherapist [TT] is now pestering gardenGnostic [GG] —

TT: Jade?

GG: hi rose

TG: How are you?

GG: do you really need to ask  
GG: im back in hell!  
GG: i feel SO GREAT!  
GG: ...  
GG: sorry that was rude wasnt it im sorry im sorry

TT: Shhh. It wasn't rude, worry not.  
TT: It's okay.  
TT: And you are correct, that question was rather callous.  
TT: Let me rephrase then.

GG: no i know what you meant...  
GG: im just sad and lonely and i kind of hate myself again  
GG: i dont want to be here rose  
GG: i got back a month ago and im still thinking wow i would so much rather be in texas now  
GG: i left my spare keys there too  
GG: maybe i could use that as an excuse to go back down!

TT: I see.  
TT: That is an understandable feeling, given your situation.  
TT: I wish I could do more to help. I'm just words on a screen to you.

GG: no no no no youre my friend please dont think that D:  
GG: i need you please dont leave me

TT: Oh, Jade, I'm not going anywhere!  
TT: I promise.  
TT: [heart]

GG: thank you  
GG: [heart]  
GG: i have so much i need to do and i have none of the motivation i need to do it  
GG: im going to fail english probably but i dont even care  
GG: is that bad?

TT: I ...  
TT: I suppose it depends on what you mean by bad.

GG: its bad isnt it

TT: Not in the way you're thinking, no.  
TT: It's "bad" because that's a sign of a severe depressive episode.  
TT: You stop caring about everything. You feel like there's no point, and so why bother?

GG: pretty much yeah  
GG: everyone hates me  
GG: i hate me!  
GG: why do i hate myself! i shouldn't!

TT: No, you shouldn't, and that's another sign.  
TT: But I can promise you that not everyone hates you, because I, John, and Dave exist.  
TT: We love you, Jade. And we'll do whatever we can to help you.

GG: i ... i dont even know what to say...  
GG: i love you too and also im crying right now  
GG: i love you

TT: It's okay to cry. Just let it out.  
TT: Tears can be quite cathartic.

GG: i cry too much ._. im sick of crying

TT: Take a hot shower, then. Temperature changes can help your mood.

GG: yeah... except that i have chores to do before i can do that  
GG: if i dont finish them i wont get dinner

TT: What the hell?

GG: house rule or something i guess  
GG: more like house rule for the shitty resident haha  
GG: finish your work and get your food!  
GG: if you dont finish the work you dont get your food!

TT: I'm pretty sure that's got to be illegal.

GG: maybe it is!  
GG: who knows? not me!  
GG: anyway i guess i should go do that  
GG: bye rose

—gardenGnostic [GG] is offline! —

TT: Bye, Jade. [heart] I'll see you later, okay?  
TT: ... Or not.  
TT: Why do you always do that these days?

* * *

"Are you okay, Jade?"

The question catches you off guard and you look up quickly to see your classmate and friend Bethany looking at you with concern.

"Totally fine!" If you paste on the fakest smile you have, that'll pass and get her scrutiny onto something that actually matters, right? Your feelings aren't exactly important. You don't matter. You just kind of want to lie down and go to sleep and never wake up. And kind of means a lot, in this case.

She gives you a skeptical look and crosses her arms. "Right," she says. "That was code for 'what's wrong' actually. What's up, buttercup?"

You shrug and laugh self-depreciatingly. "Nothing important. I'm just feeling kind of ... sad, I guess. Homesick, maybe. I miss Grandpa." That's not a lie, either. It's just not the whole truth.

Bethany wraps an arm around your shoulders and hugs you. "It'll be okay," she promises, a promise that rings hollow to your ears. You smile wanly and nod at her anyway.

One of your hands comes up to brush the locket around your neck, and after a moment's thought you turn it around and open it. Dave's smiling face next to yours stares back up at you, warm and reassuring as ever. For a second you can pretend the arm around your shoulders is his, but only for a second.

Bethany peers over your shoulder. "Who is he?" she asks with a soft smile.

"My boyfriend," you answer quietly, not taking your gaze from the picture. "He lives in Texas. I miss him."

"Aww," she says sympathetically. "That must be hard. I hope you get to see him again soon..."

Your confusion—why does she hope that, why does she care? Why would anyone care about you?—must be conveyed well enough in your face, because Bethany gives you a little squeeze.

"Judging by that picture," she says, "he makes you happy. And trust me, Jade, you deserve to be happy."

She's wrong, you think hollowly. That's the last thing you deserve. But you don't think you want to put in the effort to argue that point, nor do you have the words to back it up other than "no, I don't", so you just lay your head against her shoulder and mutely lie against her, trying hard to swallow the lump in your throat.

* * *

GG: john  
GG: i cant leave for spring break  
GG: oh my god im going to be stuck here for spring break

EB: what?!  
EB: they won't let you leave?  
EB: oh man, what are we gonna do...  
EB: can you get a friend to drive you to an airport or something?

GG: and then what!  
GG: if i do anything like that i know theyd just throw me out!

EB: well just bring all your stuff then!

GG: thats probably illegal on a lot of levels i couldnt ask that of you and your dad  
GG: oh my god im stuck here  
GG: i cant  
GG: i cant i cant i cant

EB: jade!  
EB: breathe. i need you to breathe. do that. breathe.  
EB: hello?  
EB: jade?  
EB: are you there?

GG: yeah sorry  
GG: i went to wash my face

EB: oh gotcha, no problem!  
EB: (by that i mean no apologies)  
EB: (you're only allowed to apologize to me if you've done something to me)

GG: like... making you worry?

EB: no making me worry is not a reason to apologize.  
EB: like my dad says, worry is just a byproduct of love!  
EB: my dad is full of cheesy sayings like that, ha ha.

GG: your dad sounds nice :o

EB: he is! you should hop on a plane and come meet him!  
EB: and me. :)

GG: i cant john  
GG: i cant i cant i cant  
GG: shit i cant breathe  
GG: one minute

EB: oh my god jade... please be okay.  
EB: hey!  
EB: what if i came to visit you!  
EB: could we do that? could one of us come visit you?  
EB: jade?  
EB: jade, are you there?  
EB: aw man, tell me you're alright...  
EB: i'm going to sit here until you respond.  
EB: ...  
EB: ...  
EB: ...  
EB: ...  
EB: it's been ten minutes...  
EB: everything okay?

GG: yeah  
GG: i have to go bye

—gardenGnostic [GG] is offline!—

EB: wait where are you going?  
EB: god DAMMIT jade.

* * *

One day after Spring Break starts, you go downstairs to sit in the light and airy living room—it feels easier to breathe there than in your tiny and cramped bedroom. You like enjoying afternoons in here.

Michael bounces into the living room, a colorful Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles backpack on his shoulders. "Jade!" he says happily, and you look up from texting Dave to smile slightly at him. You feel too exhausted and sad for anything more than a slight smile, but he doesn't notice anyway.

"Hey," you say. "What's up?"

"Aren't you packed yet?" he asks curiously. You blink.

"Packed for what?" You haven't been told of anything to pack for. Is there a trip? Oh no, did you somehow zone out and miss hearing Mr. Finn or Mrs. Susan talk about it? They'll be so mad!

Michael looks nonplussed. "The family reunion trip, duh," he says as though that should have been obvious. Just then, Mrs. Susan appears in the doorway behind him.

"Jade isn't coming, dear," she smiles, ruffling his hair lovingly. Your heart clenches and your stomach drops. "Go on, your father and brother are waiting in the car!"

"But it's a _family_ reunion—" Michael starts. His mother tuts and cuts him off.

"And Jade is not part of the family," she trills, entirely too pleased by this statement. You choke and stare at your phone screen, seeing the dark shapes that are letters forming Dave's words but not comprehending a single one of them. She actually said it, oh god, she _said_ you're not part of the family, oh god, you want to throw up you feel sick all of a sudden. Yes, you already knew it, but hearing her _say_ it is somehow so, so much worse.

"Oh," Michael says, oblivious to the way you're trembling and fighting back tears all of a sudden. "Okay then. See you, Jade!"

He trots out the door without a second glance. Mrs. Susan turns to follow him, then stops and looks back at you over her shoulder.

"Jade," she says. "We'll be gone for the next three days. I expect you to keep the house properly in that time, and by no means are you to have people over without an adult chaperone. Is that clear?"

"Yes, ma'am," you mumble, head downcast.

"Good," she says. "We'll be back before you know it." Then she leaves too, and you're left in an empty house, shaking with vision blurred from tears.

As silence falls, you throw your phone down to the couch cushions and flee as if you're being chased by an angry hellhound, running upstairs to your room. Your foot catches on the last step and you go sprawling, letting out a gasp of pain as your cheek connects with the hardwood floor and your glasses spin off to the side. For a second you just lie there, and then you scramble to your feet and stumble to your room, not even bothering to pick up the glasses.

When you get in you reach for Grandpa's portrait, _needing_ to see his smiling face because he's the only family you have now, even if he's gone, but your glasses aren't on and everything's blurry and you're crying and your fingers fumble and—

 _NO!_

—and there's a horrible instant when you watch the picture fall from the desk to the floor, and then _crash!_

And you're standing in a sea of shards of broken glass, each more jagged than the last and none possibly as sharp as the spear rending your heart apart. You stare at the mess for a long moment, and then you let out a long, keening wail and fall to your knees. It hurts, but you don't care, you don't care that there's glass digging into your skin, you don't care! Grandpa's gone all over again!

On some level you know you're being stupid, that you just need a new photo frame, but that's drowned by the overwhelming sobs that threaten to tear themselves from your throat. Grandpa...

You pick up one of the larger pieces, turn it over in your hands.

 _Worthless._

The dim evening light from your window glints off the edge, and you wince at the sudden brightness. A tear slips out. Good, you need to cry.

 _Stupid, useless, awful._

 _Jade isn't a part of the family!_

Another tear. You close your fist and squeeze the glass, because the pain in your hand distracts you from the pain in your heart, and you let out a sob too, even though you hate the sound of your voice against the oppressive silence hanging like a shroud.

God, your hand hurts—you didn't even notice how much it hurt until just now, for some reason, you just... you didn't, but it hurts—oh. Oh, look, there's blood. There's blood everywhere, oh god—

With another whimpered sob and a muttered "Fuck, oh god," you push yourself to your feet and stumble to the bathroom to hold your hand under a stream of cold water, dropping the bloody shard of glass into the trash can. You stand there for what feels like forever, and the blood keeps coming—how deep did you cut yourself? What have you done? Oh god, oh god...

You finally turn off the water and grab a towel, holding it against your palm and putting as much pressure as you can on it even as you whimper and blink back tears of pain. Then you sink to the floor and start to cry all over again.

* * *

There's a plethora of messages you need to reply to, though it's late enough that your friends might think you've just gone to bed if you don't.

Instead, with a strange sense of numb calmness you brew yourself a cup of green tea and wait until it's late, late at night, way later than you're usually awake, save for on those nights where you can't sleep because of the dark thoughts swirling around in your head. Those nights have gotten very common these days. You're pretty sure your average amount of sleep per night has gone down to maybe five hours.

You know what you're planning to do. It's something you've been thinking about for a while. And you know you can't make it any further, there's too long and you have nowhere to go, nowhere to turn... there's no way out. There's no way out, there's no point, you're just wasting everyone's time.

So you prepare the pistol. It's ready and loaded, and then you set it down and begin typing. There's three notes you have to leave, and it's emotionally exhausting to do each one—that might be why you saved Dave's for last. You touch the locket, lift it to press it to your lips as if that'll bring him closer, and then you start typing again, still full of something between absolute calm and utter despair. Maybe it's just certainty.

— gardenGnostic [GG] began pestering turntechGodhead [TG] at 2:31 AM –

GG: hi dave…  
GG: i just wanted to let you know that  
GG: i love you  
GG: i really love you  
GG: and im sorry that im letting you down like this  
GG: i just cant go on  
GG: i cant do this i cant handle anymore  
GG: and im sorry im so sorry because youre trying so hard to help me  
GG: but im just a lost cause, im too much of a weakling  
GG: i know this is going to hurt you and i am sorry  
GG: i am so sorry  
GG: i love you so much  
GG: the last thing i would ever want to do is hurt you  
GG: which i guess is fitting because its the last thing i am doing  
GG: that probably makes me a horrible girlfriend  
GG: well im horrible at everything else, why not this too!  
GG: apparently im also horrible at writing a last letter  
GG: im rambling all over the place haha  
GG: god i love you  
GG: please always remember that for me  
GG: and dont worry about me either  
GG: theres a pistol in the closet  
GG: it will be fast and painless im pretty sure  
GG: and im sorry that i couldnt go on  
GG: i know you wanted me to  
GG: all of you did  
GG: i just  
GG: i cant  
GG: im sorry  
GG: i love you

Your breath is a bit shaky now. Now that you're done with all this... there's nothing between you and the pistol.

You feel the cold metal against your temple, your finger finds the trigger—

TG: no no no no no no no no no NO

You pause, unable to go through with it while he's still typing. You—you owe him that much—he's done so much for you—

And just like that, the dam breaks and you start _bawling_ , great heaving sobs that make you shudder so hard you end up dropping the pistol onto your bed where you're sitting with your laptop to bury your face in your hands, even though _ow fuck_ your left is still bandaged from your incident with the glass shards. For a second you think wildly about how disappointed Grandpa would be with you now. Look what you've come to.

TG: im not reading this oh my god jade  
TG: pick up your fucking phone  
TG: jade  
TG: JADE  
TG: YOUD BETTER BE THERE DO YOU HEAR ME  
TG: FUCKING ANSWER ME  
TG: please answer me  
TG: jade  
TG: jade i need you to be okay oh my god  
TG: jade please  
TG: dont do this dont do this to me dont you dare do this

Your phone is buzzing nonstop— _incoming call from Dave Strider_. You contemplate picking up for a second, but then shake your head, heaving for breath. You can't. You almost tell him you're sorry, but then again he's always hated it when you apologize to him, hasn't he?

TG: or if youre absolutely set on it  
TG: at least say a proper fucking goodbye  
TG: so i can join you

What?

No, that can't mean what it looks like it means. Your heart flip-flops wildly anyway as your fingers fumble to push your glasses back on your face so you can read his messages more clearly.

TG: if you don't reply im gonna assume youre gone  
TG: and this sword right here  
TG: its been in my leg once  
TG: that was nonfatal  
TG: i think if i put it in my heart though

GG: NO!

He can't! He can't, he can't, he can't! He has to live, he has to live and be happy, oh god, he has to be okay! He _can't_!

TG: pick up your phone

You stare at his words, frozen. The phone buzzes, but you don't move.

TG: god DAMMIT jade i know youre there  
TG: youre staring at this message crying  
TG: pick up  
TG: your damn  
TG: phone

You accept the call, but you can't find the words. The pistol is still right next to your hand.

"Hey," he says, and you let out a sob at the sound of his voice. It's trembling. That's your fault. "Hey, Jade. Are you—are you there?"

"I'm here," you whisper, not trusting your voice not to crack. "I—Dave," and there it goes, and there you go, and now you're sobbing brokenly. This can't be what he wanted to hear, but you're just so damn worthless and stupid you can't even talk to him. God, you're so stupid you can't even kill yourself without fucking up!

"Jade," he says. No, he begs. He's begging you. "Jade, talk to me." _Please_ , he doesn't say, but you hear anyway.

"I don't—I don't know what to say!" you wail, and then break off into more sobs that tear themselves almost painfully from your throat. You're crying so hard you can barely even breathe at this point, and you hate yourself so much in this moment you can't even find anywhere to start with anything. You can't think straight, you're just so upset and sad and apathetic and angry at yourself, all at once!

"Well, let's just talk," Dave says. There's a catch in his voice, and suddenly you're wishing he was here, because you want nothing more than to bury your face in his shoulders and hear him tell you it'll all be okay. That's a statement that's always a lie, but coming from him, you can almost believe it.

* * *

"Jade," Dave murmurs, so softly you almost don't hear it. "Please. Put the damn pistol away."

You put the pistol in the closet and close the door.

* * *

"You feel up to getting up and walking around?" Dave asks you, almost eight hours later. The sun is shining outside, birds are chirping—it's a beautiful day that the girl you used to be would have loved, but as you are now you can't look at it as anything other than totally adverse to your mood.

"I want to sleep," you reply, drained of any energy you may have had. "Maybe forever." At this point, you don't even want to blow your brains out. You're so tired... you just want to lie down and close your eyes and not open them again.

"I take that as a no," he comments. You briefly wonder if you hear someone downstairs, but then dismiss the thought. The family who lives here—not including you, because you're not part of the family—isn't going to be back until tomorrow.

"Why? I'm not hungry, if you were going to tell me to get food," you tell him tiredly.

"I was going to tell you to open the front door," he replies, and then the door to your bedroom opens. You look up, shocked and suddenly a bit afraid of who might be there when you see Dave, and before you can even begin to process this, he's suddenly not at the door anymore, he's holding you so tightly you almost think there will be bruises on your back later, but that's the least of your concern because he's _here_ he's really actually here oh god he's here you're safe.

"Dave?" you finally murmur, after a few heartbeats of clinging to him and taking in the fact that he's really here, really here and holding you. "You're—but—how?"

He kisses your hair. "I started driving when you picked up the phone." He kisses your forehead, too, and the tip of your nose, and your cheeks, just peppers your face with kisses and gentle touches and sweet caresses. You find yourself starting to cry again—who even knew you had tears left? "God, Jade..." he breathes, kissing your temple and stroking the tears away with a tender touch.

You wrap your arms around your neck and bury your face in his shoulder, trembling as he holds you, rubbing soothing circles into your back and whispering sweet, soft words into your ear.

"It's okay, it's okay, I love you," he tells you softly. You respond by clinging to him some more.

"I'm sorry," you finally tell him, your voice raw and shaky. I can't—you didn't have to—I'm sorry."

He shakes his head, and you could slap yourself for forgetting that he doesn't want you apologizing. He keeps telling you that, and you keep forgetting. "No, no," he says. "We're not doing the sorry game right now." His hand comes up, cups your cheek, tilts your face up to his. He waits until you meet his gaze to keep going, and the first words he says send a jolt through you. "I love you," he says simply, earnestly. "I drove here like that because I love you, and I'm not going to let anything happen to you. Including yourself."

You can't come up with any better response than, "I love you too. I love you, so much."

He kisses you then, desperate and loving and so very Dave that you could cry again. Your uninjured hand finds its way into his hair, stroking it like you love to do, and when he pulls back he pecks your lips softly again.

"God," you say. "I feel like such an idiot. I did all that and worried you and made you come all the way out here for nothing, because look at me, I'm fine—"

He cuts you off with another kiss, and despite your initial surprise you melt into this one too, and neither of you pulls away until you absolutely need to in order to breathe. This time, you kiss the corner of his lips and feel a little better when they twitch into a smile for a second.

"You're not fine," he shakes his head slightly, and you blink in surprise. "You're not fine, but you are perfect. God, Jade, don't you ever scare me like that again." He's being totally earnest here, again, laying bare his heart to you. Despite all the whirling maelstrom of thoughts in your head, you can see that, you can see his vulnerability in his posture, the way he's holding you, you can hear it in his voice.

"I won't," you promise. He smiles.

"Good," he says. A bit of the tension drains from his shoulders. You kiss him again.

When you break apart he studies you for a long moment, one hand cradling your cheek ever so tenderly. You lean into his touch and he smiles, chuckles, and draws you in against his chest again.

"Jade," he murmurs. "Jade. You're gonna be okay."

You find that despite yourself, you believe him.

After about thirty minutes, he disentangles himself from you and stands up on the floor. You already feel colder now that he's not holding you, but then he opens the closet door and both of your gazes fall on the pistol. If you'd been feeling a chill a second ago, there's ice in your heart now.

He gingerly picks it up, tension written in every line of his body, and then puts it on the top shelf—way out of your reach. Then he closes the door and comes back to you.

"C'mere," he says, holding out his arms, and you don't need to hear it twice before you go to him, wrapping your arms around his waist tightly. He rests his chin atop your head and strokes your hair.

"I love you," you murmur shakily.

"I love you too," he murmurs back. Then he yawns. "Let's go to sleep, darlin'," he says. "We both need it."

That casual 'darling' makes you happier than it really should have any right to. "Yeah," you agree, hugging him tighter. "Especially you." Then you turn around in his arms and pull back the covers on your bed, while he lets go of you to move your laptop and both of your phones to the desk. You glance back at him and then slide into bed, and he follows right behind you, wrapping his arms and legs around you like an affectionate octopus. The thought makes you smile as you close your eyes, snuggling into him, until sleep claims you.

* * *

Back in his apartment, the next day, you're curled up against him watching Star Trek. His arms are wrapped around you and every now and then he presses a kiss to your hair—it's obvious that he's still deeply shaken by yesterday's events. You feel more than a little bad about that, but then again you're rather deeply shaken, too.

Just as another tribble appears on-screen, Dave kisses your hair again. This time you turn in his arms and kiss his jaw, touching his cheek and looking at him for a long moment. Then you kiss him softly and settle back against his chest.

"Jade," he sighs, tightening his arms around you. "Oh, man, Jade. What am I gonna do with you?"

"Hi, you," you smile at him, gentle as can be. "I love you."

Another soft kiss, this one planted on your cheek. "I love you too," he says, caressing your shoulders. "I love you too, babe."

You shift and wriggle around and resituate yourself more cozily against him. "Dave?"

"Mmhmm?" he hums.

You go still and feel him do the same in response, tensing up ever so slightly. "Thank you," you tell him quietly. You don't need to tell him for what. He knows. _For yesterday_.

He goes absolutely silent for a second, though his arms tighten around you, protectively. He's very protective of you now. "Anytime," he finally says, quiet and almost casual except for the fire burning in his eyes. You get the feeling that he absolutely means it—anytime. No matter what he had to do, if he had to do something to save you he'd do it.

Then he strokes your hair back from your face, tucks it behind your ear, and pulls you in for a tender kiss. When he pulls away he hugs you tightly.

You finally settle back in, leaning against his chest with your head on his shoulder and his cheek against your hair, to keep watching Star Trek.

"You up for a group Skype call tonight?" he asks after a moment, looking down at you.

"Of course!" you chirp, beaming at the thought of seeing John and Rose on the screen. Especially because it's almost certain that you're going to go live with John now!

"Cool," he says. Then his hand trails from your shoulder down your arm to your hand—your injured hand. He picks it up and gently turns it over so the palm faces up. More quietly, he looks at you. "You never did tell me what happened here," he says softly. You wince.

"I ... it was broken glass," you say. "I was picking up broken glass."

He looks a bit unsatisfied with that answer. "Just picking up broken glass wouldn't give you a really deep cut," he says. "It might slice cleanly, but not that deep."

Shit. Why does he have so much knowledge about wounds and how to treat them! Not for the first time, you curse Bro's intensive combat training. "I—well, that's what I was doing but I sort of... was crying and stuff and there was broken glass in my hand and I—I... yeah, that," you break off uncomfortably. He can piece it together from there, right?

He's silent for a second. Then he just gathers you back into his lap and holds you, pressing you close. "I should have been there for you," he says quietly.

"You were," you reply quickly, looking up at him with concern. He'd better not be blaming himself for this! "You were, Dave! And you still are!"

He looks unsatisfied, but he nods all the same. "Okay. And I'll keep on keepin' on," he says. "Promise me something, though."

"Anything," you say without hesitation. You trust him with your life. He just saved it, after all.

"Never again," he says, looking deep into your eyes. "Never again. Promise?"

You lean in until your forehead touches his and press a hand to his cheek. He lays his hand atop yours and looks at you earnestly some more, and you're overcome for just second by how much he means to you, how much all of this, _everything_ means to you. Your voice is soft when you finally find it again. "Promise."

And oh, do you mean it.

* * *

 _AN: By the way, the title of this fic comes from the song "Moving On" by James. It's **really** good, give it a listen!_

 _Also, I have to come clean, I have no in-universe excuse for using [heart] instead of typing out an emote this chapter. Thanks, formatting. Thanks for nothing. (For those of you who don't know, the formatting on this site deletes the less-than sign, which turns all hearts into 3s.) Same goes for multiple exclamation points, which would be really nice to have because that's ... kind of integral to Jade's typing style... but okay, ff. Sure. You do that. :/_

 _So yeah! Here's this fic! I might also do snippets of an epilogue, but no promises :P so I'm marking this complete, but I might come back to it!_


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